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LAUKA, 




AN AMERICAN GIRL. 


BY 

r ELIZABETH 



E. EVANS. 

w 



PHILADELPHIA: 

J. B. LIPPIWCOTT & CO. 
1884 . 






Copyright, 1883, by J. B. Lippincott & Co. 




“ Novellen zu sclireiben mag eine leichte Kunst sein, und Novellen zu 
lesen ist jedenfalls eine noch weit leichtere. Wer aber bei einer Novelle 
nichts Besseres zu fragen weiss, als was daran wahr sei und was erfunden, 
der zeigt, dass er eine Novelle nicht einmal zu lesen versteht.” 

Riehl. 

“ Novel-writing may be very easy, and novel-reading is certainly 
much easier. But whoever knows no better than to ask what is fact and 
what is fancy in a story shows that he does not understand even how to 
read a' novel.” 













% 

































CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER PAGE 

I. — Laura at Home 7 

II. — All Together 12 

III. — The Last Day at Home .... 20 

IV. — The Journey Begins 28 

V. — Farther on the Way 45 

VI. — In Belfast 53 

VII. — Crossing the Bay 58 

VIII. — The First Morning in Castine ... 74 

IX. — A Cousinly Talk ...... 83 

X. — The Trunk again 89 

XI. — An Evening Walk 98 

XII. — Sunday in Castine 102 

XIII. — Meeting-House and Graveyard . . 109 

XIV. — An Arrival 122 

XV. — Separate Interests 133 

XVI. — Cross-Purposes 138 

XVII. — Teacher and Superintendent . . . 144 

XVIII. — New Acquaintances 150 

XIX. — A Disappearance 155 

XX. — A Bush upon “the Acadian” . . . 163 

XXI. — A Confession 171 

XXII. — “Hail to the Chief!” .... 177 

XXIII. — Getting Acquainted 181 

XXIV. — The Light-House Woods .... 198 

XXV. — Discoveries 226 

XXVI. — The Keward of Merit .... 237 
XXVII. — A Concert in Prospect .... 244 

XXVIII. — Separations 247 

1 * 5 


6 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER PAQE 

XXIX.— The Deering Homestead .... 258 

XXX.— Girls in Council 260 

XXXI.— A Man-of-War 267 

XXXII.— The Orthodox Fair 271 

XXXIII.— In the Garden 278 

XXXIY. — An Offer 280 

XXXV.— Laura’s Sermon 291 

XXXVI. — The Concert 298 

XXXVII.— The Ladies’ Party at “Gray’s” . . 310 

XXXVIII.— The Chowder-Party .... 326 

XXXIX. — Departure and Arrival .... 344 

XL. — At the Light-House 354 

XLI. — Parting 366 


LAURA, 


AN AMERICAN GIRL. 


CHAPTER I. 

LAURA AT HOME. 

“Boston, June 7, 187 — . 

“ Dear Cousin Lilian, — You ask me where we think of 
spending the summer. We are going ‘ ’way down East,’ to a 
little seaport town on the coast of Maine, which is just be- 
ginning to be known as a summer resort. If we like it, we 
shall probably stay two or three months. Father is obliged 
to go to San Francisco to attend to some property of his 
there : so he cannot be with us. He would like to take us 
with him, but mother is not very well, and they both think 
the sea-air and quiet would be better for her than the long 
journey, and, as father will be running about on business all 
the time, I dare say he will be glad, after all, to be free from 
incumbrances. We shall feel anxious about him ; but he will 
send a postal every day, and has promised to telegraph if 
anything should happen, — which means with us if he should 
be ill, or lonesome, or uncomfortable in any way. He starts 
to-morrow, and we shall leave some day next week. Mother 
has permitted me to invite Sarah Davis to go with us. She 
has been teaching in Billerica for the last two years, and 
really needs a change. I can’t stop to write any more to-day, 
because I must help mother pack father’s things. Write, if 
you can, before we leave, and tell us where you are going to 

7 


8 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL. 


be this summer. After next week our address will be Castine, 
Maine, until further notice. With love to all, 

“ Your affectionate cousin, 

“ Laura Preble.” 

This letter was written in the back parlor of one of those 
old-fashioned square houses still standing among the more 
elegant structures which adorn the streets in the neighborhood 
of the State-House. The writer sat in a low chair and held 
her writing-desk on her lap. She was a fair-haired, fair-faced 
girl, apparently about twenty years old, with a serene and sin- 
cere expression of countenance, suggesting good natural dis- 
positions developed in a home-atmosphere of love and peace. 
She was alone in the room, with the exception of a large 
yellow cat, which had settled itself comfortably upon the 
ample skirt of her dress, but the folding-doors were open, 
and in the front parlor sat her mother, examining the condition 
as to buttons and strings of a pile of shirts and collars, while 
her father stood at a tall desk in the corner, accompanying his 
investigation of papers with a low whistle, the well-known token 
of his abstraction in business affairs. It was a pleasant home- 
picture. The old portraits on the walls, the high chimney- 
pieces and heavy doors, with their multiplicity of panels, the 
massive furniture, rich in carving and dark with age, all spoke 
of an earlier period in the social life of the republic. The 
simple love and truth subsisting between the members of this 
family are, let us hope, not gone out of fashion, like the shape 
of their chairs and the pattern of their carpets. 

The letter quoted above was handed to Miss Lilian Thorne 
upon a gold-lined salver by a boy besprinkled with buttons 
and answering as nearly to the foreign idea of a page as could 
be expected of the son of republicanized Hibernians under 
the training of “ aristocratic” Americans. Miss Lilian, a 
fashionable looking brunette, was sitting in the midst of a 
group of friends, discussing the all-important question of 
how and where to pass the summer, and, not wishing to in- 
terrupt a playful strife between two of the young ladies con- 
cerning the respective merits of Newport and Saratoga, she 
took the offered letter and slipped it into her pocket without 
looking at it. As soon as the door was closed behind the gay 
party, she returned to the luxurious drawing-room and read 


LAURA AT HOME. 


9 


her letter. Its contents seemed to impress her deeply, and, 
after a few moments’ reflection, she hastened up-stairs to her 
mother, who was reposing on her bedroom sofa preparatory 
to dressing for the evening. 

“Mother,” she began, “I’ve just had an answer from 
Cousin Laura. She says her father is going to California, 
and she and her mother are going to Castine, a new watering- 
place on the coast of Maine ; and I believe I’ll go there with 
them. I don’t want to see anything more of that lonesome 
old 1 Cove.’ It gave me the blues only to spend the day there 
last summer !” 

“ Oh, yes ; I understand all that,” replied Mrs. Thorne. 
“ 1 The Cove’ was lonesome because Horace Grinnell stayed 
in Gloucester and you imagined him flirting all day with 
Miss Saltonstall. If you have such a horror of quiet places, 
you’d better not shut yourself up in a little village on the 
coast of Maine. The fact is, I’m tired out and must have 
rest. I can’t endure the noisy, dressy life at a fashionable 
watering-place another summer, and I chose ‘ the Cove’ be- 
cause I thought it would suit us all admirably. Your father 
will stay longer when he comes down than he would be likely 
to do at a hotel, Florence can have a change of air without 
being spoiled by gay society, and you can go into Gloucester 
as often as you want to ; besides, the young people at the 
Pavilion are always coming down to 1 the Cove,’ and you can 
join them in their excursions. I’m sure ‘ Norman’s Woe’ and 
‘ Kafe’s Chasm’ are as good places for a picnic as anybody 
could ask for.” 

“ No, I don’t want to go there,” said Lilian, in a decided 
tone. “ I know every stick and stone on Cape Ann. I want 
to see something new in the way of scenery.” 

“ Scenery !” repeated her mother, with a scornful smile. 
“ I know how much you care for scenery.” And then, as 
though an idea had struck her, she asked, — 

“ Is Horace Grinnell in town ?'* 

“ No,” answered her daughter, pettishly ; “ you know he 
went to Europe months ago.” 

But she did not add that his cousin, who had been one of 
the group in the drawing-room, had mentioned that he was 
coming back soon, and intended joining a party of friends at 
Mount Desert some time during the summer. 


10 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL . 


As though to prevent any further inquiry on the subject 
of the comings and goings of Mr. Grinnell, she hastily con- 
tinued, — 

“ I do wish that Laura had written more about Castine ! 
Her letters are always so full of prosy home-matters. And 
she has gone and invited that horrid Sarah Davis to go with 
them 1” 

“ Well,” said her mother, after a pause, “I suppose she 
wanted some kind of companion, and she didn’t suppose you 
would be willing to bury yourself in that doleful place. How- 
ever, if you do go, it will not be a bad arrangement to have 
Sarah Davis one of the party, for your aunt is not well, and 
somebody must stay with her while you girls are frolicking 
about. I’ve a mind to let Florence go too, and then I can 
have a good rest.” 

“ If you let Florence go, I shan’t stir a step,” was Lilian’s 
angry reply. “ You know she is just old enough to want to 
follow me everywhere, and she will only make a fool of her- 
self, and torment me besides.” 

“ Perhaps it would be better for her to stay with me. But, 
Lilian, don’t forget to take your blue silk and your gray pop- 
lin, besides your thin dresses. The weather is often very 
cold so far North, even in summer, and you will want some- 
thing decent to wear, for nowadays one often meets the very 
grandest people in just such out-of-the-way places. The worst 
of it is, you will be so far away in case anything should 
happen to me ; and, indeed, I do feel very unwell of late. 
But it is better to let you go where you want to, than to keep 
you where you will only be making yourself and everybody 
else miserable. If it were not for your father, and if I were 
sure of finding a good doctor in Castine, I would go there 
myself and take Florence, and then we should all be together.” 

“ Oh, you’ll be a great deal better off at the Cove, and you 
know you never get on very well with Aunt Lucy. Indeed, 
I’m not sure she will want me either : so I’ll find out before I 
begin to pack up,” said Lilian, and left the room to write a 
second letter to her cousin : 

“ New York, June 9. 

“ Dear Laura, — Don’t you want me to join your party ? 
Answer immediately. “ Yours, 


“ Lilian.” 


LAURA AT HOME. 


i 11 


The answer came in due time : 

“ Dear Lilian, — We should be pleased to have you go 
with us, but we doubt whether you would enjoy being in 
such a place. Mother desires me to tell you that Castine is 
a very quiet village and is only just beginning to be known 
as a resort for city people. Mr. Longfellow and his family 
have spent several summers there, I believe, and a few other 
persons who preferred being away from everybody else ; but 
there is no prospect of any gayety, for this season at least. 
If you decide to come, bring as little baggage as possible. I 
shall wear a brown homespun travelling-suit, and carry my 
blue cambric for the warmest days, and my new black grena- 
dine for great occasions : ribbons and necklaces must help out 
every deficiency. I anticipate a great deal of pleasure this 
summer ; but you mustn’t let me influence you, for your life 
is so much gayer than mine that very likely you would find 
Castine dull. 

“ Yours affectionately, 

“ Laura.” 


To this came speedily the following reply : 

“ I will be with you, bag and baggage, next Tuesday. I 
shall rejoice to settle down in a quiet place. I am tired of 
gayety, and should be glad not to see the face of a young 
gentleman for the next six months. 

" Yours 

“ Lilian.” 

“ Mother, Lilian is coming next Tuesday,” cried Laura, as 
she entered the parlor with the open letter in her hand. 

Mrs. Preble read the letter. “ ‘ Bag and baggage’ I am 
afraid it will be ; but I hope you will not be induced to change 
your present plan with regard to your clothes.” 

“ You needn’t be afraid, mother. I don’t like to be always 
dressing up, any more than you do. But what do you sup- 
pose Lilian means by being tired of gayety and not wanting 
to see a young man for six months ?” 

“ I’m sure I don’t know. She is probably piqued at some- 
thing or other in the conduct of her beaux. By the way, 


12 LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL: 

Laura, does she know that Mr. Grinnell offered himself to 
you ?” 

“ I don’t think she even knows that he came to Boston after 
I returned from visiting her. I have never told her a word 
about it.” 

“ That is right, my child ; it is always best to keep such 
matters secret. Where is Mr. Grinnell at present ?” 

“ When Lilian last spoke of him, he was in Europe. But 
I don’t believe he is the cause of her sober fit, though I fan- 
cied she liked him better than the other young gentlemen I 
met while I was with her. Perhaps she is becoming too de- 
vout to enjoy society. You know she is now a strong 
Iiitualist.” 

“Well, I rather think she will have to lay such notions 
aside for a while if she goes with us. She won’t find any 
stained glass nor any incense in Castine, and perhaps she will 
have learned to prefer white light and pure air by the time 
she comes back.” 


CHAPTER II. 

ALL TOGETHER. 

Lilian’s “ bag,” a large one of Russia leather, was packed 
as full as it could hold, and her “ baggage” consisted of a 
Saratoga trunk and a hat-box. Both she and her mother had 
laughed Laura’s modest suggestions to scorn, and Mrs. Thorne 
had shrewdly remarked, — 

“ Depend upou it, Lucy will see that Laura is fully supplied 
with all the advantages dress can give, in case of there being 
any sufficient inducement to rig up. With all her meek ways, 
she is as anxious as any mother that her daughter should 
make a good match : so you’d better go well armed, and see to 
it that you are not out-manoeuvred between them both.” 

Meantime, in Billerica a modest trunk was being filled 
with plain and not very tasteful apparel, and Sarah Davis, 
roused into something like enthusiasm by the opportune kind- 
ness of her cousin, was picking up and putting away with ref- 


ALL TOGETHER. 


13 


erence to a six weeks’ absence, listening the wliile, with a duly 
respectful manner but only a half-engaged attention, to the 
parting advice of her spinster aunt, who had from infancy 
stood to her in the place of her deceased mother. 

“ Have a good time, Sarah, but don’t break the Sabbath 
nor neglect the weekly prayer-meeting. It is very kind of 
Laura to give you this treat, and perhaps in return your ex- 
ample may be the means of her conversion.” Then, after a pause, 
“ I suppose you’ll meet more young men than you are in the 
habit of seeing, but don’t let that flirty Lilian Thorne lead you 
into mischief, and don’t, for mercy’s sake, do anything that’ll 
look like running after a man ! If a girl wants to get a beau, 
the surest way to fail is to show that she’s trying to get one ; 
that is, if the man amounts to anything. Men are obstinate 
creatures, and if they see that they’re wanted to go one way 
they'll be sure to go another. For that matter, women are 
pretty much the same. It’s human nature the world over to 
undervalue what is too handy.” 

Mrs. Preble happened to be sitting by one of the front 
parlor windows when the hack containing her niece Lilian 
drove up to the door. 

“ Here’s Lilian,” she exclaimed to Laura, who was at the 
piano, “ with the very biggest of big Saratoga trunks !” 

“ Oh, mother,” cried Laura, springing up, a don’t, pray, get 
me into a fit of laughter, just as she is coming in 1” 

“ Well, why shouldn’t you laugh ?” 

“ Yes ; but that is a different kind of laugh. You know I 
never can stop when I once begin.” 

The door-bell rang, and Laura ran into the hall to meet her 
cousin with a suitable smile of welcome, but the laugh broke 
out again as she watched the porter struggling up the steps 
with his enormous load. He refused to carry it any farther 
than the hall, and so it was set down in the widest part of the 
passage, near the library door, Lilian good-naturedly saying 
that she had all the things she should want in Boston in her 
travelling-bag, and that the trunk could remain where it was 
until they should start on the journey. 

“ I am afraid, my dear, that this is only the beginning of 
trouble,” said her aunt, in a desponding tone ; “ but if you 
will allow me to look over your things to-morrow I will tell 
you what you will really want, — I know more about that cli- 

2 


14 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL . 


mate than you do, — and perhaps you will decide to leave the 
large trunk here and take a smaller one of ours instead.” 

“ Oh, aunt, positively I haven’t a single dud that I can 
spare. I never went away with so few things before.” 

“ Well, we will see to-morrow. But why didn’t you bring 
two trunks instead of this great ark? You have travelled 
enough in Europe to know what a nuisance a large trunk is.” 

“ That’s just where it is, aunt. It is exactly my experience 
in Europe that has taught me to have as few pieces of luggage 
(or baggage, as I suppose I must say here) as possible.” 

“ Say luggage ; that word is more appropriate in the present 
case,” interrupted her aunt, with a grim smile. 

“ I never shall forget,” continued Lilian, “ what a time I 
had in England with ‘big box, little box, bandbox, and 
bundle.’ I was obliged to leave the carriage at every station 
to see that the things were not left at the wrong place. For 
people who make ‘ comfort’ the study of their lives, I must 
say, the English have the most awkward contrivances that 
anybody ever imagined.” 

“ Exactly, my dear ; but you know with our check system 
it is just as easy to travel with six trunks as with one. How- 
ever, there will be time enough to see about all that to-mor- 
row. Come, now, and rest yourself until dinner-time.” 

“ I can’t go to sleep, auntie ; but I will lie down on the 
sofa. And, Laura, you must stay with me : I have ever so 
much to tell you.” 

So the two shut themselves into the cool spare-chamber, 
and, after Lilian had washed her face and hands and ex- 
changed her dusty travelling-dress for a loose wrapper, she lay 
down upon the chintz-covered lounge, while Laura drew up 
the great stuffed arm-chair and nestled into its capacious 
depths, in anticipation of the promised treat of gossip. 

Meantime, Mrs. Preble, with wise forethought, went up into 
the garret to select from the array of empty trunks and travel- 
ling-bags such specimens as she thought most likely to suit 
the requirements of her fastidious niece. These she ordered 
to be carried to Laura’s chamber, knowing that if necessary 
her daughter would willingly exchange with Lilian anything, 
to escape the misery of taking that dreadful trunk ! Nor 
when the housemaid came to set the dinner-table did the 
prudent lady forget to show her the trunk and warn her not 


ALL TOGETHER. 15 

to fall over it in case of her being obliged to cross the passage 
at the point where it stood. 

The three ladies enjoyed a cosey little dinner by themselves. 
Mr. Preble’s absence was duly deplored, but the postal card 
which he sent every day had arrived about an hour before, 
announcing good health and good progress in his journey, so 
his wife and daughter felt free to give themselves up to the 
pleasing cares attendant upon their own speedy departure. 
Cousin Sarah Davis was expected by the eight-o’clock train, 
and one roast chicken was set aside for her supper, while the 
other was placed before Lilian’s plate. The Preble family 
never ate meat, but none of their friends shunned their table 
on that account. Not only was meat furnished to those who 
wanted it, but the dishes which supplied its place to the others 
were so numerous and so delicious that many visitors preferred 
to conform entirely to the ordinary family fare. Mr. and Mrs. 
Preble had taken to the vegetarian doctrine so late in life 
that they could not be expected to carry all its theories into 
practice. Meat they had given up entirely, partly for sanitary 
reasons, partly because the idea of slaughtering animals for 
food had become more and more repulsive to them ; but eggs, 
butter, and milk they continued to use, while vegetables, 
grains, and fruit appeared in most appetizing forms upon their 
hospitable board. 

“ Oh, auntie, what an easy thing it is for you to go away 
for the summer !” exclaimed Lilian, as the party settled them- 
selves in the parlor after dinner. “ Only two servants, and 
not any horses. Now, at our house there is so much to be 
attended to that it is a torment to think of going away.” 

“ Yes,” replied Mrs. Preble, “ I am glad we live so simply. 
If we were in the country w T e should keep a carriage, of course; 
but in the city there is always one within call, and for short 
distances we prefer walking. As regards servants, we find a 
cook and a housemaid quite enough help, and I am generally 
fortunate in getting persons whom I can trust alone in the 
house when we want to travel. The girl who waited at dinner 
is a new acquisition, a niece of the cook, lately come from 
Ireland. She wants to stay, and, as she seems neat and willing, 
I think I shall keep her.” 

Lilian was too tired to want to walk after dinner, and so 
she and Laura played duetts, while Mrs. Preble busied her- 


16 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL. 


self in a final review of chambers and closets up-stairs until it 
was too late to see. Then she returned to the lighted room, 
and the two girls joined her in the bay-window of the back 
parlor, where they all sat chatting and waiting for the arrival 
of the tea-tray. Suddenly the quiet of the house was broken 
by a crash and a terrific scream. 

“ What is it ?” exclaimed Mrs. Preble, as she hurried to 
the door. 

“ The trunk !” cried Lilian, as she and Laura followed. 

Lilian was right. On the floor of the hall crouched the 
new Irish girl, surrounded by a confused mass of broken 
china, while tea, milk, and hot water were running in a net- 
work of streams upon the floor. 

“ Mercy, Nelly ! are you hurt ?” cried Mrs. Preble. “ Laura, 
ring for Bridget to come and wipe up this slop.” 

“ Och, me leg ! sure it’s me leg that’s broke !” moaned Nelly. 

“ Oh, no, it isn’t,” said Laura, encouragingly, as she helped 
her mother raise the girl and seat her on the lowest stair. 
“ Where is the pain ?” 

“ Here,” said Nelly, pointing to her stocking, through which 
the blood was beginning to trickle. 

“ She must have cut it on the china,” remarked Lilian, 
who stood in the parlor door. 

Laura helped the girl draw down her stocking, and the 
whole extent of the injury was displayed, — a pretty severe 
scraping of the skin, to be sure, but no bones broken. 

“ Oh, you’ll be all right to-morrow, Nelly,” said Laura, in a 
cheery voice, as her mother appeared with a roll of old linen 
and a box of Pain-killer. 

“ The saints presarve us !” cried Bridget, who now entered 
on the scene with a pail of water and a scrubbing-cloth. “ Is 
it yerself that’s bin makin’ all this throuble ? And, faith, if 
here isn’t Miss Larry’s painted cup !” she continued, as she 
gathered the broken china into her apron. “ Whereiver did 
ye find that cup, Nelly?” 

Nelly began to cry afresh. “ Sure an’ I saw the cup on 
the high shilf in the closet, and I thought Miss Larry ’d be 
plazed if I put it on the thray for the young leddy that’s 
visitin’ her, and I was goin’ along as well as possible, till I met 
wid that baste of a troonk !” 

“ What cup does she mean ?” asked Lilian. 


ALL TOGETHER. 


17 


“ My mug that I painted in Dresden,” replied Laura, as 
she wound the bandage around the bleeding leg. “ Well, 
never mind, Nelly; it was very good of you to think about 
the cup. Now you’d better go to bed and forget your 
troubles.” 

“ Yes,” added her mother, “ let us get things picked up 
as soon as possible, or some one will be sure to come in.” 

She had scarcely finished speaking when the door-bell rang. 

“ It must be Cousin Sarah,” said Laura, as Bridget wiped 
her hands and went to answer the bell. 

“ Welcome, Sarah !” cried Mrs. Preble, as the young lady 
appeared, followed by the hackman with her trunk. “ We’ve 
had a little accident ; but it’s all over now, and if you will go 
in and sit down we’ll wash our hands and be with you in a 
few minutes.” 

Lilian turned into the parlor with the new guest, and em- 
ployed the interval in giving an account of the mishap. So 
far as Sarah Davis was concerned, the confusion was welcome. 
She was very shy, and not all the unaffected kindness of her 
aunt and cousin could prevent her dreading the arrival at 
their city home. Mr. Preble was away, — for that she was 
heartily thankful, — but there was Lilian Thorne, a fashionable 
New York girl, whose airs and graces had always made her 
feel uncomfortable whenever they met in the circle of their 
mutual relations. It was in vain that she had scolded herself 
for the nervous thrills and extra heart-beats which tormented 
her as the hack neared its destination. 

“ Sarah Davis,” she had mentally exclaimed, “ what a 
goose you are ! After having taught school ten years, to be 
afraid to enter your aunt’s house in Boston ! You are well 
dressed,” — here she looked down complacently upon the gray 
mohair which she and Aunt Abby had turned and made over 
and trimmed with black velvet for the journey, — “you know 
enough to earn your own living, and that’s more than Lilian 
Thorne can do. It’s ridiculous !” 

Yet, even now that the first moment of introduction had 
passed off so successfully, Sarah was by no means at her ease. 
In that glimpse of the family party in the hall she had recog- 
nized the distance which lay between those happy, careless 
creatures and her plain, hard-working self. She had noticed 
Laura’s pretty head, with its wavy golden-brown curls massed 
b 2* 


18 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL. 


together at the back with a blue ribbon, and the slender 
figure looking so graceful in its ample robe of much-beruffled 
blue muslin. And now, as she sat under the gas-light oppo- 
site the unusually affable Miss Thorne, her gray dress seemed 
to have shrunk and paled in the presence of the soft tints and 
elaborate trimmings of the stylish costume with which it was 
contrasted. 

Oh, there was no use in trying to associate on equal terms 
with people who had time to study all the niceties of dress, 
and money to buy whatever was becoming and appropriate ! 

Poor Sarah Davis ! In her village home her thoughts were 
all devoted to the wisdom that is in books. She had even 
begun to dream of writing a book herself, some day. But it 
was one thing to dream and scribble in her chamber in 
Billerica after the day’s work at the school-house was over, 
and quite another thing to go away to spend the summer with 
fashionable friends at a watering-place, where her possible 
future successes in the way of literature would not be regarded 
as an offset for present shortcomings in looks and manners. 

The family retired early, as the guests were tired and there 
was an abundance of business in prospect for the morrow. 
Lilian begged that Laura might sleep in her room, and Mrs. 
Preble consented, on condition that they should not stay awake 
to talk. In view of this prohibition, Laura made good use of 
her time while brushing out her lovely sunny curls, and was 
in the full tide of description of a recent party in Cambridge, 
when she observed that Lilian had seated herself near the 
light with a small book in her hand and appeared to be wait- 
ing impatiently for the merry tale to come to an end. So she 
finished her sentence abruptly and made her preparations for 
bed in silence, while Lilian, after reading in several parts of 
her little book, went to the darkest corner of the room, and, 
kneeling down, remained praying so long that Laura had crept 
into her white-curtained single bed and almost fallen asleep 
before her cousin’s movements at the toilet-table aroused her. 

“ I do wonder, Laura, that you can dare to go to sleep with- 
out saying your prayers !” 

Laura laughed good-naturedly. “ That is what you say 
every time I sleep in the same room with you.” 

“ Well, really, now, don’t you think you would feel safer 
•and happier if you were to pray every night and morning ?” 


ALL TOGETHER. 


19 


“No, I don’t ; if I did, I suppose I should do it ; that is, 
I should do as you do, go to church, and all the rest of it. 
You know I never go to church ; and why should you expect 
me to say my prayers at home ? - It would be very mean to 
neglect offering praise in public and then beg for my own 
safety in private !” 

“ But why don’t you go to church ?” 

“ Because I don’t want to. Because I don’t believe what 
is taught there.” 

“ Then why don’t you go to some one of the liberal 
churches ? It would be better than nothing.” 

“Why would it be better than nothing? Oh, Lilian, we 
have talked all these things over so often that there is nothing 
more to say. We shall never agree ; and, besides, you must 
hurry and get to bed : we promised mother we wouldn’t stay 
awake to talk.” 

“ We are not staying awake. I haven’t finished my hair 
yet.” 

“ There’s the Jesuit in you. It is very late, and your hair 
would have been done long ago if you hadn’t taken so much 
time with your prayers. Mother didn’t think of that.” 

“ She ought to have thought of it,” muttered Lilian, and 
then, in a louder tone, “ That’s just what comes of listening 
to such men as Theodore Parker. Your father and mother 
thought all he said was law and gospel, and now here you are 
not believing in anything, and your parents feeling perfectly 
easy about it. I think it’s awful !” 

“ I wonder you are not afraid to travel with such sinners !” 
retorted Laura. 

Lilian was silent a few moments, and then said, in a queru- 
lous tone, “ If you don’t want to pray yourself, you might at 
least have a prie-dieu chair in your spare-room. You can’t 
expect all your visitors to be such heathen as you are.” 

“ That’s a new idea !” exclaimed Laura, roused to lean on 
her elbow and look out at her cousin from between the cur- 
tains. “ What put it into your head to think of a jprie-dieu 
chair for this old-fashioned chamber?” 

“ Why, everybody nowadays has them for sleeping-rooms 
and boudoirs. You see, one can kneel on the seat and rest the 
prayer-book or the clasped hands on the top, just as in church 
we kneel on the hassocks and lean on the front of the pew. 


20 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL. 


Nowadays people never put their heads down in prayer in 
church as they used to do, and as they still do among the 
sects.” 

“ There is one thing I wonder at,” said Laura, speaking 
slowly, “ and that is how people can adopt all these new forms 
and ceremonies without feeling strange and ridiculous. Now, 
it’s different with real Catholics. They are brought up, one 
generation after another, to observe exactly the same rules 
and gestures, and so it seems quite natural to themselves and 
to lookers-on that they should cross themselves and drop down 
on their knees at certain points of their service. But how 
one can pick up such ways after one is grown up — you, for 
instance, Lilian, you were always rather High-Church, but you 
never used to fret about all these little things, and as many times 
as you have slept in this room you never wanted &prie-dieu 
chair before. But I’ll tell you what I’ll do : if you will em- 
broider the cushion and back, I’ll have the chair handsomely 
mounted, and it shall be at your service whenever you come. 
Only do go to bed. It is after midnight, and we shall be 
tired out to-morrow.” * 

So saying, Laura lay down and closed her eyes, and after a 
few minutes Lilian turned off the gas, and retired behind the 
curtains of the large four-poster, which still kept its place in 
the spare-chamber, although Mrs. Preble had long been a 
convert to the belief in single beds, and had set them up in 
every other sleeping-room in the house. 


CHAPTER III. 

THE LAST DAY AT HOME. 

The next morning, soon after breakfast, Lilian and Laura 
went out together to do some final shopping, and Mrs. Preble, 
followed by Sarah Davis, went the rounds of the house to be 
sure that everything was in order for being left. When the 
survey was finished, Mrs. Preble was sufficiently fatigued to 
need rest, and Sarah retired to her own room, to come out 


THE LAST DAY AT HOME. 


21 


again in a few moments with a hurry and excitement unusual 
to her quiet disposition. 

“ Aunt Lucy, Aunt Lucy, what is this ? How can I ever 
thank you enough?” she exclaimed, as she opened the door 
and displayed a new dress hanging over her arm, and a new 
hat perched upon her raised finger. 

Mrs. Preble smiled. “ Wasn’t it lucky that you left your 
old black alpaca here last winter ? It fitted you so nicely 
that we knew it could safely be used as a pattern, and Miss 
Brown allowed plenty of material at each of the seams 
and at the top of the skirt for alterations, if any should be 
needed.” 

“ Oh, but, Aunt Lucy, you are too kind !” 

“ Not at all, child. I was buying Laura’s travelling-dress, 
and the stuff was so soft and serviceable that I thought you 
ought to have one too. It is just like Laura’s, only a darker 
brown, to match your hair and eyes. You must put it on be- 
fore they come back, with one of your wide-open linen col- 
lars, and a pink bow at the throat, and let them see how well 
it becomes you.” 

“ But isn’t it too handsome for a travelling-dress ?” 

“No, my dear ; travelling nowadays is scarcely more inju- 
rious to clothes than driving in one’s own carriage ; and that 
material is not hurt by being wet. You see there are cords 
at the side to make the skirt shorter when necessary, so you 
can wear it without anxiety. You’d better take your gray 
suit with you, however ; you will probably need a change of 
walking-dress now and then.” 

Sarah knew by her aunt’s turning her head to the back of 
the sofa that she wanted to rest and did not want to be 
thanked : so with a sigh of gratitude and a low “ How kind 
it was of you, Aunt Lucy !” she stole softly out of the room, 
and shut herself into her own chamber to examine at her 
leisure the pretty dress, and finally to array herself in it to 
surprise the girls on their return. 

They were surprised to see how very nearly handsome Sarah 
looked attired in a becoming manner. A little stiff and prim 
she would always appear ; her Puritanical training and her 
years of country school-teaching had left an indelible impress 
upon her manners. Nobody can watch six days in the week 
for mistakes in recitation, with eyes all round the head for the 


22 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL. 


tricks of mischievous pupils, and ears ever on the alert for 
unnecessary and forbidden noises, without carrying into the 
hours of relaxation somewhat of that excessive promptness 
and decision which the less occupied and less tormented por- 
tion of adult humanity have agreed to disapprove of under 
the name of “ school-ma'am ways." But though this pro- 
fessional air had already begun to envelop the personality of 
poor Sarah Davis, so that even the soft folds of the new brown 
homespun were not entirely proof against its stiffening effect, 
there was compensation in the superior knowledge of charac- 
ter possessed by the still youtliful wearer, in virtue of the 
very experience which had rendered herself a less attractive 
study than nature had intended her to be. For ten weary 
years she had presided alone over some one of the many dis- 
trict schools in the vicinity of Billerica, before being appointed 
to her present situation in the grammar department of the 
graded school in that respectable town. Many of her country 
pupils had been as old as herself, although her authority over 
them made her appear their senior, and so it came about that 
the girls and young men of each district where she had been 
employed had regarded her as rather outside and beyond their 
circle, while she had gone on working and dreaming by her- 
self, untouched by social relations which otherwise might have 
awakened her tenderer feelings and perhaps determined her 
destiny in life. 

In which case the pleasing duty of making her happy would 
not have devolved upon me. 

But, though she knew nothing of love experimentally, 
she had watched its growth and fruition many and many a 
time among the young people around her, and so in society 
she could read the dawnings of honest inclination or the 
signs of coquetry in male or female as unerringly as in school 
she could detect the stolen peep at a text-book in the class or 
the presence of forbidden gum in the occasional slow move- 
ment of a pupil’s jaw. Not sufficiently versed in the world’s 
ways, however, to know that the language of the eyes, as well 
as of the lips, is to be employed in disguising our thoughts, 
Miss Davis was apt to announce her discoveries by very ex- 
pressive glances, and was therefore feared by timid lovers and 
designing flirts of both sexes. It was her silent reprobation 
of some of Miss Lilian Thorne’s little manoeuvres during 


THE LAST DAY AT HOME . 


23 


their occasional meetings under the Preble roof which had 
prevented any liking' on the part of that young lady and 
caused her to remember the demure little teacher only as 
“ that horrid Sarah Davis.” 

But, Lilian having been in an unusually humble state of 
mind on Miss Davis’s arrival (in consequence of the mishap 
about the trunk), her manner had been proportionately gra- 
cious, and now the brown dress had worked such a transfor- 
mation in the school-teacher’s appearance that Lilian began to 
be reconciled to the idea of her making one of their pleasure- 
party for the summer. 

Poor Mrs. Preble’s work in the lumber-room proved to 
have been all in vain. Lilian condescended so far as to open 
her trunk, but no arguments or persuasions could make her 
wiling to diminish its contents, or even to transfer the whole 
to two smaller trunks. Her mother had packed everything 
just as it ought to be, and she did not want anything dis- 
turbed. There was not a single article more than she 
should want, and she much preferred the trunk she was ac- 
customed to. 

“ Dear mother,” exclaimed Laura, taking advantage of her 
cousin’s momentary absence, “ don’t urge Lilian any more. 
If she should move her things and find a wrong fold in one 
of them when she comes to unpack in Castine, you would 
never h§ar the last of it.” 

“ That is true,” replied Mrs. Preble ; and so on Lilian’s re- 
turn she said, resignedly, “ Well, Lilian, I won’t say anything 
more about the trunk ; but I can’t understand why it should 
be so very heavy with only your clothes in it.” 

“ Oh, that’s the porcelain and the books.” 

“ ‘ Porcelain !’ 4 books !’ what do you mean, child ?” 

“ Why, aunt, I thought I might want something to amuse 
me in that quiet place, and so I brought along a few books, 
and a breakfast-service which I am going to paint.” 

“ Now, Lilian, that is all nonsense. When you get to 
Castine you will find enough to do in rambling about and 
going on pleasure-parties. Take a sketch-book and pencil, 
by all means, — you will have a fine opportunity for drawing ; 
but as for carrying a library and a crate of crockery, it is 
absurd 1” 

“ Just wait and see, Aunt Lucy. There will be a great 


24 


LAURA , ^4^ AMERICAN GIRL. 


many stormy days, when I shall want to read and paint to 
while the time away.” 

“ Yes, child ; but we are not going into the wilderness. 
No doubt there is a circulating library in Castine, and stores 
where you can buy a cup or a plate whenever you are in a 
painting mood.” 

“ Ah, but this breakfast-service is a beauty, and I am going 
to paint it for Clara Ogden’s wedding-present.” 

“ Where are your flowers coming from ?” 

“ Flowers !” stammered Lilian ; “ oh, I can get the flowers 
in Castine. You know ‘ we are not going into the wilderness.’ ” 

“ But remember, Miss Lilian, though I think I can answer 
for Castine’s having a few books to lend or a few dishes to 
sell, I do not guarantee choice flowers for your porcelain- 
painting. Indeed, I don’t think it at all likely that you will 
be able to find what you want there. You would much better 
take my advice and leave your books and your box of china 
here and pack your clothing in one of the smaller trunks.” 

u I promise you that my trunk shall not give you any 
trouble,” replied Lilian, coldly. “ I will take care of it my- 
self.” 

“ Now, don’t put on any offended airs, Lilian. You know 
very well that whatever gives trouble to one member of a 
party disturbs all the others. You need not be afraid of being 
reproached for the inconvenience your trunk may cause us, if 
you finally decide to take it, and you may be sure I shall give 
you all the help I can ; but I warn you beforehand just how 
it will be, and I hope you will yield to my judgment while 
there is time to change.” 

Lilian was silent a few moments. She never ventured to 
discuss any subject with her aunt Lucy in the disrespectful 
tone we have already heard her use with her mother ; but all 
the same she generally meant to have her own way ; and so, 
after waiting long enough to have it appear as though she had 
considered the matter from every point of view, she said, in a 
gentle voice, “ I think, Aunt Lucy, it will be better for me to 
take the trunk : as soon as it is once started it won’t give us 
any more trouble.” 

“ Very well,” replied her aunt; “ then I need not waste 
any more time in getting these others ready.” 

Before night everything was prepared for an early start the 


THE LAST DAY AT HOME. 


25 


next morning, and after tea the ladies were glad to adjourn to 
the cool and quiet parlor, where they settled themselves in 
comfortable positions, the great yellow cat taking her favorite 
place on Laura’s lap. 

“ Don’t you expect any of your friends in this evening ?” 
asked Lilian. 

“ No,” replied Laura : “ everybody thinks we started this 
morning. We said we should go to-day when we made our 
parting calls.” 

“ Well, why didn’t you start this morning?” 

Laura laughed. “ The trunk again, Lilian. We thought 
you would want to unpack. It makes no difference, how- 
ever.” 

“ Whenever an unexpected delay occurs,” said Sarah Davis, 
solemnly, “ I always think there may be something provi- 
dential in it. Perhaps if we had gone this morning the cars 
might have run off a bridge, or some other dreadful accident 
might have happened to one or all of us !” 

“ Oh, Sarah, that won’t wash !” cried Laura. “ You might 
just as well say perhaps we were providentially kept behind 
so as to meet with an accident to-morrow.” 

“ But, Laura,” interposed Lilian, “ there have been a great 
many instances of people being hindered in really wonderful 
ways from doing what they wanted to do, and afterwards it was 
found out that it was the best thing possible for them. Why, 
only a little while ago, — don’t you remember ? — there was a 
clergyman, I mean a minister, I forget his name, but he is well 
known at home and abroad, who was about to sail from Liver- 
pool, and something or somebody detained him so that he 
changed his passage to the next steamer, and the one he was 
going in was wrecked, and only a few of the passengers were 
saved.” 

“ Oh, yes, I remember what a time the papers made about 
it, and how provoked I was at their silly cant. Suppose he 
had started : perhaps he would have been one of the few that 
were saved. And suppose he had gone to the bottom : who 
knows whether he would have been so great a loss as many 
that did go ? Who knows what the children that were 
drowned might have become if they had lived ? and who knows 
how much better off the children that were saved would be if 
they had not been deprived of their parents ? I think it 
b 3 


26 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL. 


shows disgusting self-conceit for a man to say that Providence 
kept him on shore and allowed a whole ship-load of his fellow- 
mortals to go to sea and drown !” 

“ I declare, Laura, it is perfectly awful to hear you talk 
when you once get started !” exclaimed Lilian. “ Such blas- 
phemy ! and such slang — that won't wash !" 

“ Well, you began it, or Sarah did, and I have as good a 
right to air my opinions as you two have. And ‘ it won't wash' 
is a very expressive phrase : it isn’t really slang. I like it. It 
tells the whole story and sums up the whole business without 
loss of time or waste of words.” 

“ I think Laura has the best of the argument,” said Mrs. 
Preble. “ To me it has always seemed very absurd to single 
out individuals from a crowd as better taken care of than the 
others, when all run the same risk.” 

“ But how is it, then, that when an accident occurs some 
are saved and some are lost ?” asked Lilian. 

“ I cannot tell you, for I do not know,” replied Mrs. Preble, 
calmly, “ any more than I know why the streets of a city 
are never blocked up by the people who move through them 
during the day, when if the same people were to start, some 
of them a few minutes earlier and the rest a few minutes 
later, they would come together and there could be no getting 
along at all. Things happen, and that is all we can say. 
There is, no doubt, a reason and a law under every event, but 
we cannot always recognize and understand them.” 

“ Oh, but, Aunt Lucy, that is dreadful !” 

“ Not so dreadful as to believe that there is a special Provi- 
dence for particular people. Just look at the matter as it 
really is, Lilian. Here, for instance, are we on this side of 
the ocean, praying that the winds and the waves may be 
favorable to our friends who are about to cross. And there 
are the people on the other side playing in the same strain for 
their friends, neither party stopping to think that what is a 
fair wind for one party will be a head-wind for the other. No 
wonder the Atlantic is so stormy I” 

They all laughed, and Laura said, “ That reminds me of a 
story I read lately which illustrates the Providence theory very 
nicely; wait — I won’t tell it, I’ll read it; get down, you lazy 
pussy, till I go and get my note-book. I copied it out ; it was 
too good to be lost. 


THE LAST DAY AT HOME . 


27 


44 Here it is. Now listen, Lilian, and you too, Sarah. It is 
about a late dignitary of the Church (of England) who was 
nicknamed 4 Presence of Mind,’ in consequence of a story told 
by himself. 4 A friend,’ he used to relate, 4 invited me to go 
out with him on the water. The sky was threatening, and I 
declined. At length he succeeded in persuading me, and we 
embarked. A squall came on, the boat lurched, and my friend 
fell overboard. Twice he sank, and twice he rose to the sur- 
face. He placed his hands on the prow and endeavored>to 
climb in. There was great apprehension lest he should upset 
the boat. Providentially, I had brought my umbrella with me. 
I had the presence of mind to strike him two or three hard 
blows over the knuckles. He let go his hold and sank. The 
boat righted, and we were saved.’ ” 

“ That cannot be true !” exclaimed Lilian, indignantly. 

44 Oh, yes, it is true. The hero was an Englishman, of 
course. For, though there may be as selfish cowards in every 
other country, I am sure nobody but an Englishman could be 
so absurdly pompous as to go about telling of such an exploit. 
No doubt that contemptible clergyman felt to his dying day 
that he was preserved by a special providence for some great 
end.” 

“ You are always ready to believe anything against a clergy- 
man.” 

44 And you would have believed it if it had been told of a 
4 Dissenting minister.’ It is only because it hits one of your 
beloved 4 Anglicans’ that you are so incredulous.” 

44 Come, girls, stop quarrelling, and talk about something 
else,” interposed Mrs. Preble’s mild voice. 

44 Well, what shall we do?” said Laura, already restored to 
her usual serenity. 44 1 know. Let us try to guess what 
Castine is going to be like, and then see when we get there 
how near we came to the tnacth.” 

44 That will be labor thrown away,” replied Lilian. 44 Of 
course it is like a hundred other places on the sea-shore, — a 
great wide sandy beach, and a row of big hotels, and flags 
flying, and a band playing twice a day, and bathing-houses, and 
basket-carriages, and donkeys.” 

44 But you have forgotten the best thing of all,” cried Laura, 
with animation, 44 something that is sure to belong to a seaport, 
— the light-house ! I am sure there is a picturesque light- 


28 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL. 


house there, in some beautiful, romantic spot where we can sit 
under the trees and look out over the water and dream !” 

“ Laura has always had the greatest fancy for light-houses,” 
remarked Mrs. Preble. “ When she was a little bit of a girl, 
some visitors of ours happened to have one of those long 
cologne-boxes with a picture of Cologne and the Rhine on the 
cover, and Laura kept the box for her dolls’ clothes. But 
first she took a pen and drew a light-house on the bank, — a 
great black tower which put the Cathedral quite out of coun- 
tenance. I have the box yet, packed away up-stairs, with the 
dolls and all in it.” 


CHAPTER IY. 

THE JOURNEY BEGINS. 

The next morning breakfast was despatched at an early 
hour, and Nelly, who showed no signs of a broken leg beyond 
a slight limp, was sent to the nearest hack-stand for a carriage. 
Sarah’s small trunk and the moderate-sized one shared by Mrs. 
Preble and her daughter were swung easily up to the roof by 
the driver ; but when he came to Lilian’s he stepped back in 
dismay. 

“ Faith, my lady, ye’ll need a pair of mules, or a yoke of 
oxen, to drag that baste of a trunk. It’s too hivvy for my 
carriage, let alone there bein’ nobody to help me wid the 
heavin’ of it.” 

“ Oh, nonsense !” said Lilian, who was standing at the door, 
ready to start: “ it was on the top of the hack when I came.” 
. “ Not on mine, miss. Maybe ye’d the good luck to fall in 
wid Pat Mulligan : he’s the only man in Boston that has a 
carriage fit for the likes of thirn trunks, and, besides, he had 
help in getting it on.” 

“ Well, then, Nelly,” said Mrs. Preble, “ run down to the 
express-office and have them send up a wagon immediately : 
there will be time if you hurry, and we will wait until the 
trunk is off.” 

It was an anxious half-hour of waiting j but the family 


THE JOURNEY BEGINS. 


29 


habit of being ready early whenever a journey was in con- 
templation was a resource in case of delay, and the trunk and 
the travellers were, after all, in season for the first train. 

“ Take good care of the cat, Bridget,” was Laura’s parting 
admonition, while Mrs. Preble reiterated her instruction re- 
specting fires and gas and the burglar-alarm. 

The two servants stood in the doorway, looking after the 
retreating carriage, and Nelly, in great delight, showed her 
aunt a clean, crisp dollar bill which Lilian had given her by 
way of atonement for the misfortune of the trunk. 

“ Indade and I believe she’s one iv us,” said the happy 
girl, who had never in all her life before possessed so much 
money she could call her own. “ Did ye remark the big 
goold cross she wears, Aunt Biddy?” 

“ Och, child, thim isn’t the rale kind at all, at all ! Father 
O’Grady tould us all about ’em in his sermon. Thim’s a 
kind of make-believe Catholics that’s worse nor the Protest- 
ants. And it’s very ongrateful ye are, Nelly O’ Brian, that 
ye’re a praisin’ Miss Lilian, and forgettin’ Miss Lorry, that 
rubbed your sore leg wid her own hands only last evenin’, 
sittin’ on that very stair, as I did see wid me own eyes. Miss 
Lorry’s worth a hundred of that same, wid a hundred goold 
crosses added to that ; an’ so I’ll tell ye !” 

“ And how good she was about the cup I broke ! she never 
said a cross wurred,” replied Nelly, quite willing to adopt her 
aunt’s opinion in everything concerning the strange new coun- 
try into which she suddenly found herself transplanted from 
her Irish bogs. 

The journey progressed without hinderance. Mrs. Preble 
attended to the tickets, and Laura and Lilian procured the 
checks. The train started on time. There was no collision 
at the Somerville Junction, although three engines belched 
defiance at each other as they rushed past on their separate 
curves : it seemed, indeed, as though Providence had not de- 
tained the party at home one day in order to lay a snare for 
them the next. More by good luck than wise forethought, 
they chose the shady side of the car, and, Laura and Lilian 
being fortunately in possession of the gift of nature so rarely 
accorded to women, that of being able to ride backwards, the 
seats were turned together, and the four settled down comfort- 
ably to look into each other’s faces for the next six hours and 

3 * 


30 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL. 


report anything of interest which might be seen from their 
respective positions. 

Passengers entered at every station, and in a little while 
the places were all occupied, and the usual experience of a 
u through car” went on. People who had risen early and 
perhaps taken a long drive to catch the express now endeav- 
ored to make up for their lost morning nap, snuggling down 
in the corners, or nodding uncomfortably in the outside places, 
to the amusement of beholders and the inconvenience of the 
conductor and the venders of sweetmeats and light literature 
in their progress up and down the narrow passage between 
the seats. The coming and going of these officials caused an 
almost constant slamming of the doors, accompanied by a whiff 
of air and a sharp clatter of wheels in contrast to the monot- 
onous rumble of the cars when the doors were closed. The 
representative travelling family was, of course, on board, — 
the baby who cries when the car is in motion and screams 
whenever it stops, the restless three-year-old who is always 
wanting a drink of water, the chubby boy of five who swings 
himself down the passage by resting his hands on the arms 
of the opposite seats. There was also the inevitable newly- 
married couple, — his arm ostentatiously thrown around her 
waist, and her head resting confidingly upon his shoulder, to 
the discomfort of both, without reckoning the irreparable 
detriment to the bridal bonnet. None of these familiar types 
of the travelling public were much heeded by our party, who 
prudently refrained from talking while the train was in mo- 
tion, and so had an abundance of well-cogitated information 
to communicate during the short intervals of quiet at the 
stations. 

They reached Portsmouth a little behind time, and found 
the stage waiting and the driver in a hurry to start. As there 
were other passengers, however, and considerable baggage, it 
took some time to get everything in order, and the train 
passed on its way before the transfer was accomplished. As 
Mrs. Preble was about to enter the stage, she chanced to look 
back, and, behold ! there was Lilian’s trunk standing high and 
dry upon the platform, the only piece of luggage visible in 
that part of the station. “ Why, what does this mean ?” she 
exclaimed. M Lilian, how came your trunk to be taken out 
here?” 


THE JOURNEY BEGINS. 


31 


" I had it checked for Portsmouth, of course,” answered 
Lilian, who was already in her place. “ I knew we were going 
to stop here and take the stage for Dempster and go on to 
Newmarket Junction for the train.” 

“ Yes, child, but the trunk could have gone on with ours 
to Portland.” 

“ I supposed Laura took checks for Portsmouth, too ; it 
sounded so,” continued Lilian, in an injured tone. 

“ No ; I said Portland,” replied Laura. 

“ Well,” said Mrs. Preble, “ we cannot stop now to discuss 
the matter. Give me your check, and I will have it changed 
so that the trunk can go on by the next train.’ * 

“ Oh, aunt, pray don’t ! I shall not have a minute’s peace 
if it is left here. They’ll forget to put it on board, or they’ll 
send it in a wrong direction, or they’ll open it, or something 
will happen. If you knew what was in it you wouldn’t want 
to run the risk. Do, please, let it go on the stage !” 

Mrs. Preble knew that Lilian was the owner of a great 
deal of costly jewelry ; she therefore felt unwilling to take the 
responsibility of leaving the trunk behind. She was annoyed 
at her niece for giving so plain a hint of the treasures she 
was carrying about ; but on glancing hastily around she was 
relieved to find that the driver and the porters were out of 
hearing, and that the passengers in the stage were all women. 

“ I suppose there is nothing to do but take the trunk with 
us,” she remarked, in a resigned tone, and, calling the driver, 
she gave directions to have it put upon the stage, which was 
done with much groaning and many oaths, and the heavily- 
laden vehicle at last rolled away. 

This part of the journey was much more tedious than the 
long ride in the cars had been. The road was up and down 
hill ; the horses pulled slowly along the ascending grade, and 
the drag had to be put on wherever the descent was steep. 
The stage windows were so small that very little of the country 
could be seen by the passengers, and the fresh odors of the 
fields and woods were counteracted by the smell of the leather 
cushions and the strong scent of tobacco which the breeze 
carried back from the driver’s box. 

A little before sunset our party arrived at their place of 
destination, the Davis homestead, where Sarah’s grandmother 
and maiden aunt, apprised beforehand of the intended visit, 


32 


LAVRA , AN AMERICAN GIRL. 


had looked out of the east window in vain for three days at 
stage-time. Now, however, the old lady’s withered face, in 
its broad white cap-border, was close against the pane, and 
Polly had the front door already open, and was standing in 
the entry waiting until the voices of the guests should prove 
them sufficiently near to make it proper for her to step outside 
and give them a welcome. 

The farm was situated about a mile from the village of 
Dempster, and the house stood upon a bit of greensward at 
the junction of four cross-roads. There was no fence in 
front; but on the-- north and west sides the fences of the ad- 
jacent fields were built up to the house, and four large tama- 
rack-trees stood in a row near the door, giving an air of 
privacy to the otherwise exposed building. 

The driver let down the trunk from the back of the stage 
with a bang which promised ill for the box of china inside, 
and after dragging it up the slope to within about a rod of 
the house, he refused to move it a step farther, and, hurrying 
back to his place, the stage was soon lost to view in the pine 
woods which lay between the farm and the village. 

As soon as the first greetings were exchanged, Mrs. Preble 
suggested that the hired man should be sent to bring in the 
trunk. 

“ How unlucky !” exclaimed Miss Polly. “ Seth has gone 
over to the Junction to a wedding, and is not coming back 
till to-morrow morning ; but I assure you, Cousin Preble, the 
trunk will be perfectly safe where it is. It might stand there 
a week, and nobody would think of carrying it off. Half the 
time we don’t lock the doors or shut the windows in sum- 
mer, and we’ve never been disturbed yet.” 

“ I know how fearless you always were,” said Mrs. Preble, 
“ but I do hope you will humor us to-night by making things 
as close as possible. We are so accustomed to all sorts of 
precautions against thieves and burglars that I don’t believe 
any one of us could sleep a wink if we knew there was noth- 
ing to prevent stragglers coming in. As for the trunk, I sup- 
pose we must risk leaving it where it is. And, Lilian,” she 
added, turning to her niece, “ if there is anything especially 
valuable in it, I think you would better take it out, and then 
you will feel easy.” 

“ No, thank you, aunt ; the things are as safe there as they 


THE JOURNEY BEGINS . 


33 


would be in the house, and if robbers come I prefer to have 
them stay outside,” said Lilian, in a desponding tone, which 
plainly indicated that, so far as she was concerned, the visit 
was spoiled by this, evidence of the primitive condition of 
things at the Davis farm. Perhaps she felt all the more dis- 
contented because she could not escape the consciousness that 
she ought to be as much interested as the others in the affairs 
of this secluded cottage, which was in fact one of the homes 
of her race, where her own mother had once, in her girlhood, 
been very glad to obtain shelter and subsistence from the feeble 
old woman who was now gossiping in a cracked voice with 
Mrs. Preble and Sarah about their mutual relations^and ac- 
quaintances. And once, before the Thornes had become so 
rich and proud as they now were, Lilian had been sent, on 
account of delicate health, to pass several weeks with these 
distant relations, and had enjoyed the simple pleasures of the 
country, as all young persons do who are not entirely spoiled 
by the world’s ways. But now she was incapable of finding 
anything to amuse or interest her in such homely surround- 
ings, and as she stood alone in thfe open door, gazing listlessly 
over the green fields to the fir-crowned hills, she longed for 
the morrow, when they could again be on their way, and laid 
up this interruption to the journey as another grudge against 
poor Sarah Davis, for whose sake especially the visit had been 
included in the programme. 

Nor was Laura entirely excluded from these complaining 
thoughts, for she remembered that, while they shared in com- 
mon a host of insignificant relatives, Laura was connected 
also with some of the best blood of New England, old-estab- 
lished families, whose representatives still dwelt in the stately 
homes of their ancestors, amid relics of a nobler inheritance 
in the mother-country. She thought of Grandfather Preble’s 
great three-story square house in Quincy, standing at the 
head of a long avenue of elm-trees, and of Uncle Wentworth’s 
mansion near Portsmouth, with portraits of English beauties 
of two centuries ago upon the parlor-walls, and heavy old 
silver plate imparting an aristocratic air to the appointments % 
of the dinner-table, and she f^lt aggrieved because she could 
claim no better ancestry for herself than farmers who had 
never distinguished themselves in any way, not even in ac- 
quiring wealth. It was provoking, too, that her slip of a 


34 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL. 


cousin, who laughed at religion and never went inside of a 
place of worship, should come of a long line of stanch sup- 
porters of the Church of England, while sAe, whose highest 
pride was in the exclusive body of which she was a member, 
should number among her progenitors only so many enemies 
of the Apostolic faith and the Anglican ritual. 

Meantime, the unconscious object of these envious feelings, 
good, light-hearted Laura, was enjoying to the full a renewal 
of old associations in the quaint room she had not visited be- 
fore since she was a child. With the cat in her arms, she 
followed Miss Polly Davis back and forth, listening with in- 
terest to the snatches of family news bestowed during the in- 
tervals of silence between the opening of the oven-door and 
the rattling of dishes in the cupboard, and in return delight- 
ing the heart of the lonely old maid by her recognition of 
various established belongings of the antiquated house. 

There was still the very hole in the plastering behind the 
pantry door, which had formerly been the source of so many 
half-pleasing, half-terrifying fancies. For she had chosen to 
imagine that a bear lived inside the wall, and that the reddish 
hairs which hung out of the broken plaster belonged to him, 
and that he would be pretty sure to come out if she were to 
pull one of his hairs. 

There was also the blue corner-cupboard, with the two hearts 
cut in the upper panels of the door, which looked all the 
more interesting now that she was old enough to be informed 
by Miss Polly that the decoration was made by her father to 
represent the affection between himself and her mother. 

Laura had never been in love, but she delighted in the ro- 
mances of other people, and could easily imagine the feelings 
of the bride when her husband brought her to their new 
home and showed her this work of art as a symbol of their 
united happiness. 

By and by Miss Polly’s watchful attention at the oven was 
rewarded in the achievement of an exquisitely-browned short- 
cake, which was -speedily filled with sweetened strawberries 
and set upon the table, together with a pitcher of rich cream. 
This principal feature of the entertainment being in its place, 
the other dishes, plain bread, cold ham, warmed-up potatoes, 
boiled eggs, and the steaming teapot, were added in a trice, 
and Miss Polly hurried to the sitting-room to summon the 


THE JOURNEY BEGINS. 


35 


busy talkers and help her aged* mother to the table, while 
Laura went to arouse Lilian from her discontented revery at 
the front door. It was a cosey tea-party, and all but Lilian 
seemed to enjoy themselves heartily. Even she could not 
deny that the cooking was excellent, and, her appetite being 
sharpened by the journey, she was able to accomplish her full 
share towards disposing of the strawberry short-cake, but the 
homely appointments of the table were a shock to her fas- 
tidious refinement, and she was especially disgusted because 
Mrs. Davis and Miss Polly ate with their knives ; though 
how they could have managed with the wide-spreading, two- 
tined steel forks which still obtained in the Dempster region 
would have puzzled even Lilian’s adroitness to demonstrate. 

Supper over, Laura insisted on helping Miss Polly clear the 
table and wash up the dishes, and the others returned to the 
sitting-room. The work in the kitchen was soon finished, and 
then Miss Polly, with an air of importance, crossed the little 
front entry and proceeded to throw open the windows of the 
closed and darkened parlor, that her guests might enjoy the 
summer evening under the most favorable circumstances. 
Her mother’s rocking-chair was brought across and placed in 
a corner out of the draught, Mrs. Preble was made comfortable 
on the high-backed hair-cloth sofa, and, for the amusement of 
the young people, the square mahogany table between the 
windows contained an assortment of daguerrotypes, ambro- 
types, and photographs, to say nothing of several bound vol- 
umes of Godey’s Lady’s Book and Graham’s Magazine, and 
various tiny collections of poetry, comprising Moore’s Melo- 
dies, Willis’s Sacred Poems, Young’s Night Thoughts, Tup- 
per’s Proverbial Philosophy, and an illustrated u Language of 
Flowers.” This last book, prettily bound in white and gold, 
bore tokens of frequent and exhaustive study in its numerous 
pencil-marks, from the faint line along the margin of a favor- 
ite passage, to vigorous brackets surrounding some decisive 
expression of feeling, and bold initials appended to sentiments 
which tallied with the condition of the writer’s heart. Laura 
and Lilian soon had their heads together over this record of 
country flirtation, wondering the while whether the secret of 
Miss Polly’s perpetual maidenhood were hidden in these much- 
bescribbled leaves. 

The subject of their query ings was busy meanwhile locking 


36 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL. 


up the back part of the house for the satisfaction of her timid 
visitors, and putting mosquito-bars into all the lower windows 
to keep out a certain enemy which was a greater dread to her 
than any possible robber. 

“ You don’t mean to say that you have mosquitoes here in 
June !” exclaimed Mrs. Preble, in a pause of her conversation 
with Mrs. Davis. 

“ I guess you’d think so before morning if I didn’t take 
pains to keep ’em out,” was Miss Polly’s reply. “ You just 
wait a little while, and you’ll hear ’em begin to hum. Some- 
times I think that row of tamarack- trees draws ’em, for they 
seem to stay around the front door, and they scarcely ever 
come into the chamber windows at the gable-ends of the house. 
They certainly are the biggest ones I ever saw in my life, and 
make the most noise. We’re ahead of you city folks in mos- 
quitoes, anyway. I’m glad it is full moon to-night, for I shan’t 
need to light the lamp right away. They go mad when they 
see a light, and act ten times worse than when the house is 
dark.” 

This description of Dempster mosquitoes aroused the 
curiosity of the visitors, and, it having grown too dark for 
the girls to continue their examination of the “ Language of 
Flowers,” they drew back from the table and sat silent, 
listening for the arrival of the unwelcome insects. 

“ I hear them !” exclaimed Miss Polly. And presently the 
room was filled with a gentle murmur, which increased to a 
buzz, and finally almost to a boom, while through the deeper 
tone of the myriad swarm was plainly audible the peculiar 
sharp clang which expresses so accurately the torment of the 
mosquito’s sting. 

“ They must be tremendous fellows !” said Laura. “ Do, 
Miss Polly, let us have the lamp ; I want to hear them go 
mad !” 

Miss Polly laughed and lighted the lamp. Sure enough, 
the noise waxed louder, and it was plain that the outside of 
the muslin bars was thick with the aggravating creatures, 
thirsting for a chance at the fair faces within. 

“ They are more boisterous than ever,” said Miss Polly, 
after a time. “ I was afraid they would be like children and 
not show off when company is by. But I expect they’ll re- 
venge themselves on us old folks after you are all gone.” 


THE JOURNEY BEGINS. 37 

“ Then let me put out the lamp, and we will sing in the 
moonlight, won’t we ?” 

“ Oh, yes, that will be delightful ! Do you remember, 
Laura, how we used to sing together? Let me see — it is 
twelve years ago : you were ten years old then, and now you 
are twenty-two. Dear me ! how time flies !” 

“ Indeed I remember it well. I have not forgotten a single 
one of the old songs and hymns. My favorites were i The 
Minute-Gun at Sea,’ and 1 The Shining Shore.’ ” 

“ I know. We will sing those first, and then we must sing 
‘ There is a Fountain filled with Blood,’ to please mother, 
and ‘ Forever with the Lord :’ that is the one I love best.” 

So they sang in the moonlight, and the hum of the mos- 
quitoes was lost in Laura’s soft, sweet soprano and the still 
musical alto of Miss Polly’s once remarkably fine voice. Good 
old Mrs. Davis took solid comfort in the familiar tunes, and to 
Mrs. Preble they recalled many incidents she had almost for- 
gotten and many beliefs she had entirely outgrown. 

Sarah Davis listened with a prayer in her heart that the 
sacred words might be blessed to her darling Laura, who, 
although by nature so lovely, must yet be mourned over as 
“ a child of wrath.” 

Lilian alone was restless and uncomfortable during the per- 
formance. She edged about on her chair for a while, and finally 
went out into the entry and sat down before the open door, 
where she could look through the mosquito-bars away across 
the misty fields into the black gloom of the evergreen forest. 

She felt very lonely. Her present surroundings were totally 
out of keeping with her tastes and habits, and, to crown all, 
she must needs listen to the hymns of religious sects persis- 
tent in their rebellion against the true Church and ignorant of 
the peace and joy promised to believers alone. She thought 
of the deep-toned organ and well-trained choristers at St. Al- 
ban’s, of the soft light from painted windows, of the carefully- 
modulated voice of authority from the altar and the gentle 
murmur of response from the kneeling congregation, and in 
contrast to such solemnity this impromptu singing in a cot- 
tage parlor with the hum of mosquitoes by way of obligato 
seemed little short of blasphemy. She was glad when the 
voices ceased and a movement was made for bed. 

Mrs. Davis’s emotions had been so aroused by the music that 
4 


38 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL . 


a trace of the old habit of exhorting, for which she had been 
famous in her day, started into life as she bade the girls good- 
night. She held Laura’s hand while she thanked her for her 
kindness, and added, — 

“ My dear child, I hope you felt the full meaning of those 
wonderful words !” 

Laura laughed a little, and said, evasively, “ I am glad, dear 
Mrs. Davis, that you enjoyed our concert. I am sure Miss 
Polly must have made a sensation when she used to sing alto 
in meeting. She has a beautiful voice !” 

“ And so have you, my child. And, remember, it is never 
better employed than in singing the praises of your Maker 
and your Saviour !” 

“ And you too, my dear,” she continued, turning to Lilian, — 
“ I trust you find the Lord near, even amid the allurements 
of the city.” 

Lilian made no reply, and hastily withdrew her hand from 
the old lady’s grasp. Mrs. Davis was repelled by this cold- 
ness, and at once came to the conclusion that all was not right 
with Lilian’s soul. So she added, in a rather severe tone, “ Be 
careful, my dear young lady, that you are not deceived by the 
lust of the eyes and the pride of life. I know that you are a 
professor, but all that is of no avail unless you are also a 
possessor !” 

Having delivered herself of this favorite aphorism, the good 
old lady settled herself back in her chair to wait patiently 
alone in the moonlight until her daughter should come back 
with the light and help her to bed, after having seen the 
guests to their quarters up-stairs. Mrs. Preble and Sarah 
were to occupy the north room, the real “ spare-chamber,” 
and Laura and Lilian the opposite room, which had been Miss 
Polly’s maiden bower until the death of her father made it 
necessary for her to sleep down-stairs with her mother. 

“ Oh, Polly,” cried Mrs. Preble, “ there is not the least 
symptom of a lock or any other fastening to this door ! What 
shall I do ? Perhaps it is foolish in me, but I don’t believe 
I can sleep with nothing but the latch to trust to. I really 
do not think it safe for you to go on in this careless way, 
now that you two women are alone and your mother is so 
feeble !” 

Polly laughed. “ Why, who do you suppose would ever 


THE JOURNEY BEGINS. 


39 


think of coming to rob such a poor-looking house as this is ? 
Besides, generally Seth sleeps in the back bedroom, and we 
never feel afraid. But I’ll bring a couple of pairs of scissors, 
and you can slip one over the latch of each door, and then no- 
body can open them, let them try ever so hard.” 

The scissors were brought, and, after the good-nights were 
exchanged, Mrs. Preble and Laura duly fastened their respec- 
tive chambers, Mrs. Preble supplementing this defence on her 
side by piling all the movable furniture against the door and 
balancing the water-pitcher on the window-frame, where the 
slightest movement would send it crashing to the floor. Sarah’s 
part was to look under the bed and in the closet, and, every- 
thing having been made as safe as possible, the two tired ladies 
were glad to go to bed, where their fatigue soon rendered them 
oblivious to the possible perils* of their lonely situation. 

Meantime, Lilian was going on with her preparations in 
sullen silence, scarcely deigning to reply to any of Laura’s 
hap-hazard observations. At last she broke out : 

“ I think it is very hypocritical in you, Laura, to sing 
hymns, as you did to-night, when you don’t believe a single 
word of what you are singing !” 

Laura looked at her cousin in surprise. 

“ I sang,” she replied, “ because Miss Polly has a fine voice 
and is very fond of singing, and her mother likes to hear those 
hymns, particularly now that- she is lame and cannot go to 
meeting. They both know that I am not pious ; but that is 
no reason why I should not help them enjoy what they be- 
lieve in.” 

u Yes, that is just where it is : you are willing to do any 
thing to make people like you, and that is the reason people 
do make such a fuss over you wherever you go. Now, I don’t 
believe in laying myself out for everybody like that, especially 
when it comes to giving up principle.” 

“ There was no principle involved in the question, except- 
ing the principle of returning the hospitality of these excellent 
people by trying to make myself agreeable during our stay. 
For that matter, Lilian, I really think it would look better in 
you to exert yourself a little more under such circumstances as 
these. What kind of an evening should we have spent if 
we had all gone off into the corner and kept mum as you 
did to-night? And then at the tea-table — I was so afraid 


40 LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL . 

Mrs. Davis or Miss Polly would notice that you were not 
pleased” 

“ I was disgusted, because they ate their omelette with 
their knives,” interrupted Lilian. 

“ Well, you saw what kind of forks they had. No mortal 
could carry that soft omelette on the point of a two-tin ed 
fork. We ourselves were obliged to use our teaspoons, and 
there was in reality no difference, excepting that our imple- 
ment was of silver and hollowed out a little, and theirs was 
of steel and flat.” 

“ And sharp on one side,” continued Lilian, “ so as to put 
them in constant danger of cutting their tongues.” 

“ So far as that goes, there is no more danger of cutting 
your tongue with a knife than of pricking your tongue with 
a fork. For my part, I think> there is a great deal of non- 
sense about the silver fork business. The English are the 
silliest ; but many Americans make almost as much ado. And 
yet those people in England who are so proud of their family 
plate couldn’t for their lives show a silver fork a hundred 
years old, — I mean broad forks, such as are used nowadays. 
The fact is, the fashion originated with the French, and has 
gradually spread over the world. You and I were brought up 
to use silver forks, but our parents ate with knives in their 
youth, or, if they didn’t, their parents certainly did. And 
so did the ancestors of all the English ladies and gentlemen 
who nearly go into fits whenever they see a German eat with 
a knife. It depends entirely upon how the thing is done. I 
never saw any person eat more elegantly than that lovely 
Baroness Lilienthal, and she always used her knife. Of course 
I prefer to see people eat with forks ; but I do not condemn 
them as ignorant and ill-bred when they use knives instead. 

“ But to return to the Davises. How could you be so 
silent and cold when the old lady bade you good-night and* 
spoke a few pious words to you ? I thought to myself, If 
Christians cannot recognize each other better than that, there 
is no great advantage in the 1 communion of saints.’ ” 

“ I don’t pretend to any fellowship with her beliefs and 
practices,” said Lilian, proudly. “ I hate such cant ! And 1 the 
communion of saints’ doesn’t mean being 1 hail fellow well 
met’ with all these upstart sects.” 

“ The right religion , which is ours,” said Laura, mis- 


THE JOURNEY BEGINS. 


41 


chievously. “ Mark Twain tells the whole story in those 
few ironical words. I confess I wanted to laugh myself over 
the 1 professor’ and 1 possessor.’ I shall lay that up, Lilian, to 
tease you with now and then.” 

“ I dare say you will. You keep your excessive amiability 
for strangers, and like to annoy me whenever you can.” 

“ Oh, but, Lilian, that is too unjust 1” exclaimed Laura. 
“ You know I tease you only in sport, and would not for 
the world say anything to hurt your feelings. We disagree 
sometimes and discuss things warmly ; but you cannot really 
think that I try to annoy you. I am sure I never in my life 
said anything so unkind as you said just now in accusing me 
of hypocrisy.” 

“Well, it is hypocrisy to say one thing and believe an- 
other.” 

“ I didn’t say ; I sang,” laughed Laura. 

“ You know very well what I mean.” 

“ But what was I to do ? I always used to sing with Miss 
Polly when I visited her as a child, and I knew she would 
like to have me do so again, for old times’ sake, and because 
she enjoys singing.” 

“ You might have sung songs.” 

“ She knows very few songs, and she and her mother are 
pious, and like hymns better than anything else.” 

“ If you wanted to show off your voice, you might have 
sung one of your own pieces alone.” 

“ How aggravating you are, Lilian ! As if that was my 
object in singing ! And it would have looked pretty in me 
to attempt to entertain these country-people with operatic 
airs in a foreign language ! Pray, what makes you so severe 
all at once ? How much sincerity is there in your choirs of 
boys who are only waiting for a chance to pull each other’s 
hair all the while they are looking so angelic in their white 
surplices? And how much piety is there in the hearts of 
the opera- singers who perform so much of your church music 
nowadays ?” 

“ But at least these people do not utterly disbelieve what 
they are singing.” 

“ Well, what am I to do about it? If I sing any hymns 
at all, they must be Christian hymns. We poor heathen have 
no literature of that sort, you know.” 

4 * 


42 


LAURA , .4iV AMERICAN GIRL. 


“ Which is sufficient to condemn you,” subjoined Lilian, 
creeping to the back side of the bed and turning her face to 
the wall, as though refusing any further conversation. 

Laura soon put out the light, and lay down with her face 
to the moon-lighted chamber, smiling a little to herself at 
Lilian’s haste to get into bed, she having always before de- 
manded the front side whenever they were compelled to sleep 
together. But to-night there was the danger from robbers, 
which had made her oblivious to her former fear of spiders 
coming down the wall, and she had now forgotten alike her 
terror and her ill humor in the sound sleep of youth and 
weariness. 

But Laura could not sleep. Although apparently serene 
and even gay of disposition, her feelings were exceedingly 
tender, and she was easily depressed when found fault with, 
whether justly or unjustly. 

Her extreme sensitiveness would have made her miserable 
under the thousand little crosses of every-day experience, had 
she not been gifted with, or trained into, a cheerful philosophy 
which enabled her, after the first shock had been endured, to 
make light of difficulties and to estimate the true importance 
of whatever troubled her. So, as she lay looking out into 
the bright and quiet chamber, she was for a few moments 
disposed to tax herself with all the vanity and hypocrisy her 
cousin had accused her of, and her soft eyes filled with tears 
as she thought how hard it is to do anything from an entirely 
pure motive. But, as she recalled the incidents of the even- 
ing, she regained her usual composure. Beyond the mere de- 
light of singing, she had not thought of her own voice ; her 
sole aim had been to please her kind hostesses, and she was 
sure they had taken her efforts in the right spirit. She was 
shrewd enough, too, to perceive that her cousin’s spiteful re- 
marks were not intended to apply entirely to the evening’s 
entertainment. Lilian had shown annoyance during the jour- 
ney, once because Laura had held a conversation of some 
length with a young lady sitting opposite, who was travelling 
alone and appeared exceedingly grateful for the attention, and 
again because a very striking-looking young man in a velvet 
coat and broad felt hat, evidently an artist, had watched 
Laura with great interest, and had been seen working dili- 
gently at his sketch-book whenever the stopping of the train 


THE JOURNEY BEGINS. 


43 


allowed him to draw, the inference being that he was taking 
a likeness. Sarah Davis had laughed a good deal about 
Laura’s conquest, and Laura noticed that Lilian was silent 
and sullen for some time after every mention of the incident. 
Such pettiness was beyond Laura’s comprehension ; but she 
accepted the fact of its existence in Lilian’s character, and 
felt uncomfortable whenever circumstances called it forth. 

“ Lilian is handsomer than I am,” she said to herself; “ her 
features are more regular, and her whole appearance more im- 
posing. She attracts more attention than I do in general so- 
ciety. But tastes differ, and she ought not to be offended 
because now and then some one prefers my plainer face and 
more quiet style. Artists, especially, are often struck by 
some passing expression or by the turn of some one feature 
which is unnoticed by other people. However, Lilian’s jeal- 
ousy does no harm to any one but herself, and I am not to 
blame for it, so I won’t think about it any longer.” 

But the moon was so bright and every object in the room 
stood out so vividly that Laura could not go to sleep. 

“ How strange it is,” she thought, “ that country-people 
scarcely ever darken their windows at night ! It must be be- 
cause they go to bed very early and get up at sunrise, and 
then they are so tired when night comes that they can sleep 
through everything.” 

She thought she would see whether the trunk was safe, 
and, rising softly, she put on her slippers and went to the 
window. The upper part of the mosquito-bar opened like a 
door, and, turning it back, she put out her head and looked 
around the corner of the house upon the green slope where 
Lilian’s precious property had been left. There was the 
trunk, all right, its reddish leather covering and rounded top 
making it look not unlike the gabled cottage beside which it 
stood, as though a little young house had sprung up like a 
mushroom in the night. Laura thought of the diamonds and 
other costly treasures which would make the fortune of a thief, 
and she looked up and down the cross-roads to see if any 
moving figures were visible. But the white, sandy highway 
was empty, and not a sound was to be heard. She remained 
leaning out of the window a good while, enjoying the peace- 
fulness of the pretty landscape, and wishing she could wander 
about under the dark pines which skirted the neighboring 


44 


LAURA , , 4 ^ AMERICAN GIRL. 


hill-side. At last she bethought her of the fatiguing journey 
still to be taken, and of the nervous headache which would 
be likely to follow her loss of sleep, and was about to return 
to bed, when she fancied she heard a suppressed murmur just 
around the corner at the back of the house, as of two persons 
talking in a low tone. She listened attentively, and was sure 
she heard a soft breathing, growing louder, as though some 
one were approaching the fence which separated the garden 
from the open space in front. The robbers were surely 
coming : what should she do ? What could anybody do, in- 
deed, to prevent the trunk being carried off? There was no 
man in the house, and probably no pistol or other weapon of 
defence ; the neighbors were not within hearing-distance. In 
short, to ma.ke a disturbance might only endanger their own 
lives, without protecting the property so carelessly exposed. 
At any rate, she would be sure that mischief was brewing 
before waking up the family. She stood still and listened. 
The slight noise ceased for a time, then she heard again the 
loud breathing, followed by the low murmur. The sound of 
heavy steps succeeded ; they came nearer ; a shadow fell across 
the garden, something big sprang forward, the bars of the 
fence rattled, and a great white cow landed beneath Laura’s 
window and fell to grazing the tender grass it had been covet- 
ing from the other side. 

Greatly relieved at this unexpected solution of the mystery, 
Laura closed the muslin frame and went to bed, wondering 
how many of the alarming sounds and sights which haunt the 
hours of night might not prove to have an equally innocent 
and commonplace cause, if the parties disturbed could have 
opportunity to investigate the appearances or wait for the 
conditions to reveal themselves. The whole thing reminded 
her of u Nero der Ketten-Hund ” in “ Der Freischiitz,” and she 
fell asleep with a smile, thinking of the pretty blonde who had 
sung that song with so much spirit at a party in Munich. 


FARTHER ON THE WAY. 


45 


CHAPTER Y. 

FARTHER ON THE WAY. 

The next morning was bright and warm, and the little 
farm-house was early in a bustle of preparation for the depart- 
ure of the visitors. Seth had returned at daylight, had driven 
back the intrusive white cow to her lawful pasture, and, after 
the milking was finished, had started for the next farm to bor- 
row a wagon strong enough to carry Lilian’s trunk, he having 
declared positively that the two-seated covered buggy would 
be ruined if the weight of such a great box should be added 
to that of four passengers. 

During his absence, breakfast was eaten, a lunch prepared, 
and whatever of interest remained to be looked at or talked 
over was duly discussed. Laura visited the hen-house and 
barn, and picked a specimen of each of the familiar flowers 
in the old-fashioned garden to press for the sake of old times. 

Everything was ready at ten o’clock for the drive of six 
miles to the station. Lilian’s trunk was adroitly tilted into 
the back of the wagon by means of a long board, and the 
hard seats in front were made comfortable with pillows cov- 
ered over with buffalo-robes. 

Good-byes were exchanged with hearty friendliness, even 
Lilian becoming cheerful at the near prospect of release, 
while Mrs. Davis and her daughter were too high-minded to 
appear to entertain any remembrance of her previous discon- 
tent. She felt that she had had a very stupid time, all for 
the sake of a person she despised, and they felt that she had 
been selfish and disagreeable, but her airs were not worth 
minding, since Sarah had brought such good news of her 
success in teaching, and Laura and her mother had shown 
themselves so warm-hearted and true. 

The drive to the station was not an uncomfortable one, 
though taken in a lumber-wagon ; and, Seth having been well 
paid for his extra trouble, our travellers were ready to take 
their places when the well-filled train arrived. At first they 
feared that there would be no places to take ; but after passing 


46 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL. 


through three cars they were so fortunate as to find two seats 
together, which they made haste to occupy. Directly opposite 
was a party of three young ladies, presided over by a stout 
gray-haired gentleman, who sat in the seat behind the group, 
while the fourth place in the double-seats was secured from 
intruders by an overcoat and the latest Atlantic lying ostenta- 
tiously across the cushion. The two girls who sat by the 
window had their heads out, looking anxiously up and down, 
and the third young lady kept turning towards the door, while 
they exclaimed frequently to each other, — 

“ Where can he be ?” “ Oh, dear ! I’m sure he will be 

left !” until finally the old gentleman growled out, — 

“ Do let the young man take care of himself : perhaps he 
chooses to stop here.” 

“ But, papa, he has left his overcoat and book,” said the 
prettiest of the girls. 

“ Then you must throw them out of the window for him 
to pick up, that is all,” replied the matter-of-fact parent. 

The whistle sounded, and, just as despair had begun to 
settle upon the three youthful faces, the door was darkened 
by the absentee, who advanced leisurely towards the now 
happy and expectant group, being hindered in his progress 
by several news-boys hurrying out of the car before it should 
be too late to drop off the steps without danger. Laura and 
Lilian sat facing the door, so they had a good view of the 
personage whom they had already, girl fashion, distinguished 
as the hero of some sort of romance with their opposite 
neighbors. And, indeed, they could not greatly wonder at 
the enthusiasm of the young ladies. The gentleman was really 
uncommonly handsome, and carried himself with an air of min- 
gled simplicity and dignity which made him only the more 
attractive. He was tall and finely formed, with dark chestnut 
hair curling in heavy rings all over his head and around his 
broad forehead, bright hazel eyes, a straight nose, beautifully- 
arched lips (the upper one shaded by a full brown moustache), 
and a firm chin divided by a deep cleft. He was dressed in a 
fashionable brown travelling-suit, with an abundant display 
of white linen at the bosom and wrists, and, as he took his 
seat and began to draw on his gloves, our young ladies were 
charmed with the beauty of his white hands and the massive- 
ness of the seal-ring upon his little finger. 


FARTHER ON THE WAY . 


47 


The immediate absorption of the whole party m their own 
affairs rendered it possible for Lilian and Laura to continue 
their observations unnoticed, while the noise of the cars pre- 
vented their low comments from being heard. 

“ I don’t think they are Americans,” said Lilian. 

“ The old gentleman and the girls are not,” replied Laura. 
“ I should say they were English, only that they seem so much 
at home in our cars. They are probably Canadians, — English 
people from Canada, I mean. The old gentleman is the pretty 
girls father, for she called him ‘papa,’ you know; the other 
English-looking girl is not her sister, I am sure, — probably 
her cousin, or a friend ; and the freckle-faced girl is Scotch, no 
doubt ; look at her high cheek-bones and her Charles Stuart 
plaid.” 

“ The young man is an American, I believe.” 

“ I hope he is, he is so handsome. Just see how eager 
they are ! — all three talking to him at once, and he looking so 
good-natured and so indifferent! Talk about American girls! 
They are not half so crazy about young men as English girls 
are ; they flirt like the mischief whenever they get a chance ; 
the only difference is, they do it awkwardly,” exclaimed Lilian, 
in a suppressed tone, feeling indignant that she should lose so 
fine a chance to show how flirting ought to be done. 

“ The pretty girl has a graceful figure,” whispered Laura ; 
“ she is tall and willowy. How well she would look on horse- 
back ! The other is as uninteresting as most English girls 
are ; and the Scotch girl is awfully homely, though she looks 
good-natured, too.” 

“ I think she must be the richest of the lot,” replied Lilian : 
“ her jewelry is very heavy and old-fashioned, and she seems 
quite at her ease, although her companions are so much bet- 
ter-looking. I am sure I hope the man enjoys being yelled 
at and smiled at by all three at once ! I know just how they 
are talking : one begins to tell some utterly insignificant cir- 
cumstance, and the others cut in with ‘ only fancy ! how very 
odd V And the one who is telling the story hesitates in the 
middle of each sentence, and keeps saying 1 you Jcnow ,’ until 
the poor young gentleman is so bewildered and tired that he 
doesn’t try to hear a word more.” 

“They are probably on their way home from a tour in ‘ the 
States,’ ” said Laura, after an interval of silent observation, 


48 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL. 


during which time the conversation of the young people op- 
posite never flagged. 

“ And very likely,” added Lilian, “ they have picked up 
this youth somewhere and are taking him home with them. 
Won’t there be a pulling of caps between them before the 
visit is over ? I shouldn’t wonder if the homely Scotch girl, 
with her money-bags, should carry off the treasure at last !” 

But the companionship was not destined to last so long or 
to be so eventful in its results as Lilian had conjectured. 

When the train drew up at Saco for a stay of twenty min- 
utes, the old gentleman proposed to the young one that they 
should take a walk on the platform ; and as soon as they were 
gone the three damsels set up a chorus of lamentations over 
the speedy ending of the pleasant times they had been enjoy- 
ing. Suddenly the pretty girl exclaimed, “ Let us all write 
something on the title-page of his Atlantic — just for a lark, 
you know !” 

“ And so that he will think of us whenever he looks at the 
book,” sententiously added the Scotch girl. 

“ I know what I shall write,” continued the first speaker, 
seizing the magazine and scribbling rapidly as though she 
feared the others might get the start of her. “ Here it is : 
Happy to meet : sorry to part : happy to meet again” 

“ How nice !” exclaimed the Scotch girl. “ Now we must 
think of something, Ellen,” she added, turning towards the 
other young lady, who had throughout been the least talkative 
of the three. 

“ Really,” answered Ellen, “ I never can think of anything 
on such occasions. You must help me, Marion, you have 
chosen so well for yourself.” 

“ And me too,” interrupted the Scotch girl, rising hastily 
and leaning over Marion’s shoulder ; " you must help me too. 
He will be here in a few minutes, and what shall we do?” 

“ Well, Maggie,” replied Marion, “ I will help you first, 
and, Ellen, you can surely have something ready by the time 
we are ready for you. Now, Maggie, you must think hard, 
for I have not anything in my mind just at .present.” 

So the three set their wits to work, and our two looked on 
in intense though unexpressed amusement. 

It was an interesting sight. Ellen gazed out of the window 
with eager eyes and contracted brows, as though hoping to 


FARTHER ON THE WAY. 


49 


discover an appropriate couplet in the wood-pile or the water- 
tank from which the engine was being supplied ; Marion sat 
in anxious suspense, leaning slightly forward, her red lips 
parted and her blue eyes uplifted to the ceiling of the car, 
like a sibyl waiting for inspiration ; and Maggie stood at her 
side, her heavy features void of any expression beyond that 
of helpless bewilderment. At last she started forward with an 
awkward hitch, like a train of cars too suddenly set in motion, 
and gasped out, “ Happy to meet: sorry to part" — then the 
jaw fell, and, turning to meet the reproachful blue eyes just 
withdrawn from the ceiling, she exclaimed, “ Oh, no, I forgot : 
we have that already !” 

The matter was growing desperate. The increasing bustle 
around the station indicated the speedy arrival of the other 
train ; passengers, new and old, began to take their seats ; the 
young man would surely be coming for his overcoat and book. 
But Marion’s resources had apparently been exhausted upon 
her first effort, Ellen’s persistent gazing out of the window 
had not been followed by any increase of mental light, and 
Maggie, crushed by her mistake, had taken her seat and 
folded her hands over the Stuart plaid in hopeless inefficiency. 

“ I’ll tell you,” said Marion : “ we will all sign our names 
under the motto, and it will do just as well as though each 
one wrote a separate quotation.” 

“ That will be very nice,” said Ellen and Maggie, in the 
same breath, and so the magazine was passed from one to the 
other and the signatures were duly appended before the inno- 
cent cause of all this futile brain-work returned. When he 
did come, he had no time to discover the addition to the con- 
tents of his Atlantic : indeed, he was obliged to make his 
farewells as brief as possible, and not even Lilian’s sharp and 
experienced eyes could perceive any partiality for pretty 
Marion or any mercenary designs upon homely Maggie in 
his parting shake of their respective hands. 

“ Happy to meet : sorry to part : happy to meet again" 
murmured Laura, as the stately figure of the young stranger 
disappeared in the crowd. “ Did you ever?” was her com- 
ment upon this little episode, as she encountered Lilian’s eyes 
just being withdrawn from the now uninteresting group of 
young ladies. 

“ No, I never did !” was Lilian’s emphatic answer. “ And 
c d 5 


50 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL . 


I must say that girls who cannot find anything more apropos 
than such a wretched motto as that for a sentimental farewell 
would better give up trying to fascinate young gentlemen ! I 
should think they would have been ashamed to let us hear 
and see it all ! It takes the English to ignore everybody 
around them. What airs they did put on, just because they 
had a man to talk to them and we hadn’t ! It is evident that 
they have not been accustomed to much attention, or they 
would not be so wild about a chance travelling-companion, 
even so handsome a one as the dear departed !” 

At Portland the Canadian party was lost to Lilian’s sight, 
and thereby ceased to be the subject of her strictures. For 
this young lady possessed in an eminent degree the in some 
respects enviable faculty of forgetting easily whatever or whom- 
soever was not closely connected with her own interests. 

But Laura’s thoughts followed the strangers, with many 
ponderings as to their present state of mind and the possible 
effect upon their future of this recent agreeable episode in their 
young lives. 

It was sundown, and within atf hour of the time for the 
sailing of the steamer, when our travellers, after a comfortable 
dinner at the station, drove down to the wharf. Lilian’s 
trunk, which had been sent on in advance, occupied a con- 
spicuous place in the front line of a vast collection of baggage, 
among which the other three ladies were glad to recognize 
their own belongings, safe and sound, though somewhat de- 
faced by dirt and scratches and cabalistic chalk-marks. 

The vessel steamed slowly out of the harbor ; the light 
faded in the west, and was succeeded by a sky of brilliant stars. 
Our party would have liked to stay on deck, but soon the air 
grew chilly, the fog came rolling in, blotting out the shore and 
the stars, and the ladies went early to bed, so that they might 
be up by daylight for the view along the coast. 

Laura and Sarah Davis shared the same state-room ; and 
Sarah was rejoiced to find that Laura was perfectly willing to 
sleep in the lower berth. At first Sarah, who had never be- 
fore been in a steamboat over-night, was disposed to go to bed 
with her clothes on ; but Laura dissuaded her. 

“ You won’t feel at all rested in the morning,” she said, 
“ and your clothes will be so twisted and tumbled ! There is 
no danger of a storm, and we do not go out of sight of land 


FARTHER ON THE WAV. 


51 


the whole way. You’d better undress and go to sleep as soon 

you can, otherwise the motion may be unpleasant to you 
by and by.” 

Sarah undressed and climbed up into her berth, where she 
lay quite still until after Laura was in bed below. Then she 
said, slowly, “ What an awful thought, that there is only a 
plank between you and eternity 1” 

“ Nonsense I there are ever so many planks 1” laughed 
Laura. “ First there is my bed, then the floor, and then two 
or three more floors before you come to the water, if that is 
what you call 1 eternity.’ ” 

“ Oh, Laura, what a hard-hearted little sceptic you are 1” 
exclaimed Sarah, half tenderly, half reproachfully. “ You 
know perfectly well what I mean.” 

“ Yes, I know. You don’t feel so safe on the water as you 
do on land. But you are. Confess, too, that you do not feel 
so safe with me as you would if I were a believer.” 

" Well, I should feel more as though we were under our 
heavenly Father’s protection if you trusted in Him too.” 

“ Exactly. And now just think how absurd that is. Do 
you suppose I am the only person on board who is not pious ? 
If you do, it is a pity you cannot make yourself invisible and 
go about the steamer and hear the sailors swearing and see 
the gentlemen in the smoking-room playing cards and drink- 
ing brandy. And, even if it were so, one sinner isn’t going to 
sink the ship. That is said to have happened in Jonah’s 
time ; but he, you must remember, was a pious man running 
away from his duty, while I am only an unbelieving girl going 
where my mother wants me to.” 

“ I know it, Laura. You are so good and so sweet that I 
feel ashamed to find fault with you ; and yet, you know, ‘ the 
one thing needful’ — ” 

“ Now, Sarah, do you really think that any of the good, 
pious people you know are good because they are pious ?” 

“ Why, yes : don’t you ?” 

“ No, I do not . So far as my knowledge of character goes, 
all the good people would be good under any respectable 
training, and the bad ones would be bad under any kind of 
restraint. You know yourself that there are hypocrites and 
immoral people in all the churches. I don’t deny that some 
fine characters are devoted and sincere in their religious pro- 


52 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL . 


fession ; but I deny that it is religion which makes them 
sincere and devoted.” 

“ But what are you going to say about the dreadfully 
wicked persons who are sometimes converted in an instant and 
really do reform from that time ?” 

“ I am going to say that good influences under some other 
form than religious excitement would have the same effect.” 

“ I cannot agree with you there,” said Sarah, with decision. 

“ No, I don’t suppose you can. But come, let us go to 
sleep, or we shall be too tired to-morrow to enjoy the scenery.” 

Sarah’s regular breathing soon announced that she had fol- 
lowed this good advice ; but Laura remained awake a long 
time, being disturbed, not by any thoughts arising from the 
recent conversation, but by the increasing noises on deck. The 
fog* whistle began to blow, and now and then she could hear 
the fainter warning of some vessel passing at a safe distance, 
or the mournful tolling of a bell as the waves swept over a 
dangerous ledge in the neighborhood of the steamer’s course. 
She knew that to a sailor nothing was so much to be dreaded 
at sea as a fog or a snow-storm, and more than once she got 
up and peered out of the little window to see how things 
looked outside. Sometimes nothing was visible but a thick 
mist ; again, she could discover the dark outline of the shore 
and catch the fitful gleam of a revolving light from a distant 
light-house. But, after an hour or more of this restless get- 
ting up and lying down, she wisely concluded that, as she could 
do nothing to improve the prospect, it would be better to forget 
her whereabouts as quickly as possible in sleep, and, after a 
short interval of forced quietness and persevering abstinence 
from connected thought, the u sweet restorer” came. 


IN BELFAST. 


53 


CHAPTER VI. 

IN BELFAST. 

She was awakened by a rushing to and fro overhead in 
consequence of the near approach of the steamer to Belfast, 
and, rousing Sarah, the two girls dressed as rapidly as possible 
and went to join Mrs. Preble and Lilian, who were soon ready 
to follow the other passengers on deck. It was a lovely morn- 
ing, and the chill of the sea air was tempered by a warm and 
fragrant breeze from gardens and hay-fields along the neigh- 
boring shore. Belfast stood before them, a mass of clean, 
white houses, interspersed with an abundance of trees, cover- 
ing a considerable height and descending through a succes- 
sion of steep streets to a broad esplanade terminated by a row 
of substantial wharves, upon one of which a crowd of people 
awaited the arrival of the steamer. 

Soon the bustle was over. The steamer passed on its way 
to Bucksport ; the passengers belonging to Belfast sought their 
respective homes, and our group of ladies were the only per- 
sons left upon the broad wharf. 

Laura and Sarah seated themselves upon a coil of rope in 
the shade, while Mrs. Preble and Lilian walked up and down 
with open parasols in the sunshine. 

“ Isn’t this delightful ?” cried Laura. “ So still and bright ! 
And how pleasant the water sounds lapping against the piles 
under the wharf!” 

“ Yes,” replied her mother ; “ but I wonder how soon our 
steamer is coming, and whether we can get breakfast on board. 
I forgot to ask the stewardess last night.” 

u Here comes a boy,” said Lilian. u We can ask him about 
the steamer. — Boy,” she called out, as he seemed about to 
turn back, “ do you know when the Castine steamer is due ?” 

“ Yass,” he answered, with a grin : “ she’s due to-morrow 
afternoon at three o’clock.” 

“ To-morrow afternoon !” they all exclaimed. “ Isn’t there 
a boat every day for Castine ?” 

“ No, there ain’t,” was his reply. “ Three times a week in 
5 * 


54 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL . 


summer* and none at all the rest of the year. But,” he 
added, “ the packet’s goin’ over this mornin’, if you don’t 
want to wait for the boat.” 

“ What kind of a packet?” asked Laura. 

“ Wal, you can see her if you look around. It’s i The Spy.’ 
She lies at the little wharf yonder.” 

They all turned and looked in the direction pointed out by 
the boy. 

“ It is a good-sized sloop, mother. Let us go over in it : it 
would be a great deal more romantic than going in a steamer. 
Wouldn’t you like it, girls?” 

“ Yes, if it isn’t dangerous,” replied Sarah. 

“And if it isn’t dirty,” said Lilian. 

“ We can walk over to the wharf and see,” said Mrs. 
Preble. And away they went, the barefooted boy scampering 
ahead to warn the invisible captain of the “ Spy” of the ap- 
proach of visitors. At his summons a head appeared above 
the door of the little cabin, and by the time the ladies had 
reached the edge of the wharf the captain, a burly, good- 
natured-looking man, accompanied by a large black Newfound- 
land dog, stood in full stature upon the deck. 

“ Good-morning,” said Mrs. Preble. “ We want to go to 
Castine, and, as there is no steamboat to-day, we thought per- 
haps you might have room for passengers in your vessel.” 

“ Yes’m,” answered the captain. “ I almost always have 
passengers. Before the steamboat began to run I had ’em all, 
I might say ; for there wasn’t many folks that wanted to go 
all the way to Bucksport and then down by stage to Castine.” 

“ And you think it is safe?” 

“ Safe ? Bless you, yes. There ain’t a mite of danger at 
this season. If we only have breeze enough to get us over, I 
shall be thankful.” 

“ The less there is, the better we shall like it.” 

The captain smiled and looked mischievous, as though he 
knew better than they did what it was to cross Penobscot Bay 
without a breeze. 

“ How far is it ?” asked Laura. 

“ Twelve miles, miss.” 

“ Oh, that is nothing ; we shall soon be there ! When do 
you start ?” 

“ About ten o’clock, miss.” He looked at his watch. “ It 


IN BELFAST. 


55 


is now half-past seven. Two hours and a half. But you’d 
better be down here in two hours. Sometimes we go a little 
earlier.” 

“ l)o you know of any good hotel or restaurant near by, 
where we can get breakfast?” asked Mrs. Preble. 

“ Yes’m. You just go straight up that first street to the 
left, and you’ll come pretty soon to a red brick house with a 
long piazza. That’s the Pine Tree House, and you’ll get all 
you want there. You’d better lay in a hearty breakfast,” he 
called out, as they turned away. u Maybe we’ll be a good 
while getting to Castine.” 

“ I don’t need that advice,” said Laura. “ Pm as hungry as 
a bear !” 

The Pine Tree Hotel was easily found, and before long a 
hearty New England breakfast was placed before the travel- 
lers. 

“ Give me your bones and scraps of meat,” said Laura to 
Lilian and Sarah, when they had finished , eating, taking a 
piece of paper out of her pocket as she spoke. 

“ What on earth do you want of them ?” asked Lilian. 

“ I am going to give them to the dog we saw on the packet,” 
was Laura’s reply. 

“ I only wish you were half so good to human beings as 
you are to dumb animals,” remarked Lilian, sarcastically. 

u I know my admirers think so,” said Laura, slyly ; “ but 
you have no reason to complain. I am always good to my 
own sex.” 

“Hm!” muttered Lilian, in a significant tone, while her 
color heightened and her eyes flashed. “ I never knew before 
that you were renowned for your cruelty towards your 
c admirers,’ as you call them !” 

Laura laughed slightly and made no reply. She knew that 
those few words would irritate Lilian, and the spirit of mis- 
chief within her prompted her to say them. It was always 
a matter of surprise and amusement to her to see how sensi- 
tive Lilian was to any attention paid to her when they were 
in company, and to any recognition of such notice on Laura's 
part when they talked things over together alone. Lilian 
would condescend to a hundred petty manoeuvres to keep her 
in the background when gentlemen were present, and afterwards 
expend an immt nse amount of ingenuity in trying to remove 


56 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL . 


from her mind any impression of admiration or regard which 
their eyes or their lips might have conveyed during the in- 
terview. Laura saw through all such attempts ; but she had 
too much self-respect to show that she noticed them, and she 
was too kind-hearted and sincere to revenge herself by trying 
to win away the attention of any of Lilian’s numerous gentle- 
men acquaintances. She could not help it, however, that 
now and then one of them would stray from his allegiance to 
her cousin, and it had more than once happened that men 
who had long paid Lilian the jesting devotion understood in 
the society word “ flirtation” had finally turned to Laura with 
an offer of marriage, or had begged her to grant them the 
privilege of enduring friendship. Laura never mentioned 
any of these crises of acquaintance to any one excepting her 
mother ; but Lilian had seen enough to be aware that she 
had a dangerous rival in her innocent-minded cousin, and as 
the girls grew older the intimacy between them became less 
affectionate, though relationship and habit still threw them 
much together. 

The worst of it was that Lilian had no faith in Laura’s 
simplicity of character. Tricky herself, she regarded her 
cousin’s straightforward, untroubled course of proceeding as 
only another form of selfish manoeuvring, and it enraged her 
to see men fall victims to what they considered the charm of 
a guileless nature, while she recognized in it the perfection of 
art. 

But herein Lilian did her cousin great injustice. As a rule, 
women understand each other far better than men can ever 
understand them ; but in order to judge justly there must be 
no envy or jealousy in the case. Any disinterested observer 
would have believed that even as Laura’s hair was allowed to 
hang in its natural curls, innocent of borrowed “ puffs,” 
“ rats,” and “ switches,” as the natural swell of her bust was 
unaided by the mysteries of French corsets, and her feet and 
hands were never tortured by shoes and gloves too small for 
them, so her smiles might be trusted and her “yea” and 
“ nay” accepted as the real expression of her feelings. 

There is no knowing what Lilian would have said or done 
if she had known that Horace Grinnell, the man for whom 
she had cherished a strong preference ever si ice she was old 
enough to think seriously of making choice ff a companion 


IN BELFAST. 


57 


for life, had himself selected Laura and had asked in yain. 
It had all been done by correspondence, with the exception 
of one short interview at Laura’s home, and he had returned 
to his associates apparently unchanged by the unfortunate ex- 
perience, which remained unknown to and unsuspected by his 
nearest friends. Indeed, it would have surprised them exceed- 
ingly to learn that he had been refused by the quiet-looking, 
simply-dressed Boston girl who made so little sensation when 
she appeared in the brilliant drawing-rooms of Lilian’s circle 
in New York. For Horace Grinnell was the great “ catch” 
of the period, “ the glass of fashion and the mould of form,” 
in the eyes of scores of young ladies, who, if they did not 
once for all go mad for his love, at least made themselves very 
often extremely silly in their attempts to win his favor. And 
with him it was the old story : tired of adulation, he was 
captivated by the indifference of the girl who would not go 
out of her way to secure his attention, and who, whenever it 
was bestowed upon her, was able to maintain her own individu- 
ality, without reference to his opinions or tastes. For he 
knew very well that it was not alone his personal advantages 
and mental culture that made him so great a favorite in 
society : he was aware that his house in Fifth Avenue, his 
villa at Newport, his horses, and his yacht were likewise 
eminently attractive to the spoiled daughters of fortune. 

And now, after a short tour in Europe, the latest of many 
he had taken, he had gone to rusticate at Mount Desert, and 
Lilian was already in his neighborhood, fully bent upon having 
his company to relieve the tediousness of the lonely seaport 
which her aunt had selected for their summer sojourn. 

She was the only one of the party who thought about him 
or knew of his whereabouts. She had not even told her 
mother; because her parents were anxious to have her marry 
a certain young millionnaire who had recently been paying her 
more decided attention than she had ever received from Horace 
Grinnell, but whom she was resolved not to accept so long as 
there was the least prospect of making a conquest of*the man 
whom she really preferred to all others. 


58 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL. 


CHAPTER YIL 

CROSSING THE BAY. 

u We have still more than an hour before we need to go 
down to the packet,” said Laura, looking at her watch, after 
she had carefully deposited the bones and scraps in her 
satchel. “ Let us go and walk. I want to see how the town 
looks.” 

Only Sarah Davis agreed to the proposal. Mrs. Preble and 
Lilian preferred to lie down and try to get a little sleep to 
make up for their wakefulness on the steamer, and so Laura 
and Sarah went out together, and stayed so long that the 
others began to be afraid the vessel would sail without them. 

At last the girls were descried hurrying down the steep 
street, and, as Mrs. Preble had taken the precaution to settle 
the bill before lying down, there was nothing to do but go out 
and hasten all together to the wharf. They found the captain 
stowing away the boxes and bundles which constituted his 
slender stock of freight, while the dog sat on the cabin roof in 
the sun and watched with apparent interest the preparations 
for departure. 

“ Where shall we sit?” asked Mrs. Preble, as they stood in 
a group upon the deck. 

“ Wherever you want to,” was the captain’s reply. “ I 
ain’t ready to hoist the sail just yet, and when I be I’ll tell 
you to move if you’re in the way.” 

So they went around to the stern, where the cabin cast a 
shadow, and sat down on their bundle of shawls, with their 
backs against the cabin, having before them the blue expanse 
of sunlit sea, relieved to the eastward by the dark forests of 
a distant island. 

“ We took quite a long walk,” said Laura, as she settled 
herself comfortably and pulled off her hat. “ Belfast is really 
a very pretty town. There was a cottage on the bluff, stand- 
ing back from the road and covered with woodbine. It was 
charming. Wasn’t it, Sarah?” 


CROSSING THE BAY . 59 

“ Yes, it was very pretty. But I liked the old house on 
the main street still better.” 

“ Oh, yes ; that was the finest place of all. It was some 
like Grandfather Wentworth’s house, mother. The grounds 
slope down to the level of the street, and are full of tall old 
trees, and there are beds of beautiful flowers on the terrace 
near the front door. We didn’t see anybody around that 
house ; but just across the street there was such a pretty girl 
sitting in the porch, reading. She looked like an old-fashioned 
portrait, with her hair combed up high on her head, and her 
long ear-rings.” 

“ Ear-rings at ten o’clock in the morning !” exclaimed Lilian, 
in disgust. 

“ Well, she looked lovely, and we heard somebody calling 
her ‘ Pauline.’ I was so glad she had a pretty name ! We 
passed a bakery, mother, and I bought a paper of sponge-cake 
and Graham crackers, so that in case we do not get to Castine 
before dinner we need not starve.” 

“ I do wish the man would start !” exclaimed Lilian. 

“ He is starting now,” answered Laura, as she peeped 
around the end of the cabin. “ And there are no other pas- 
sengers, — nobody but the captain and one sailor and the dog.” 

A light breeze was blowing as the packet slowly moved 
away from the shore and tacked across the bay. 

Pretty soon Laura rose and took up her shawl-strap. “ I 
am going down there in the middle,” she sard. “ It looks 
clean, and there is more room, and the sail makes a pleasant 
shade.” 

In a few minutes she called out, “ Come, all of you ; it is 
delightful here !” 

So the others got up and came around the cabin in a row. 

“ That’s right !” called out the captain from his little dark 
kitchen. “You will have more room to spread around there, 
and you won’t be troubled with the sail yet awhile. If this 
breeze only holds on till we get past Turtle Head, we’ll cross 
as slick as a whistle.” 

“ And if it shouldn’t, what then ?” asked Laura. 

“ Wal, then we must tack a good deal, and that’s always 
a nuisance to passengers. Still, it’s better than rowin’,” he 
added, with a glance at the sky, where the fleecy white clouds 
were fast melting away before the advancing sun. 


60 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL. 


44 What is that noise ?” asked Lilian, as a deep booming 
sound cSme across the water and was echoed by the neighbor- 
ing hills. 

44 That’s the ‘Agamenticus,’ miss, tryin’ her guns. You 
know the 4 Agamenticus,’ p’r’aps ? — one of the navy iron-clads. 
As soon as we round that p’int, we shall see her.” 

But, as it seemed likely to be a good while before the point 
would be rounded, the ladies settled themselves comfortably 
near the mast and began to take stock of their resources for 
amusement, while the captain and his man busied themselves 
at the other end of the vessel. 

Mrs. Preble’s tatting-case was always at hand, and her 
fingers were soon moving nimbly at their accustomed work, 
while her eyes wandered contentedly over the beautiful view 
spread out before her. 

Sarah Davis took a fine white cotton stocking from the 
depths of her capacious satchel and began to knit, and Laura 
and Lilian undertook the task of putting to rights their hand- 
some Bussia-leather reticules, which had served as catch-alls 
during the journey. 

44 We ought to have brought more books,” said Lilian, 
catching sight of a volume in her cousin’s bag. 44 4 Pearl of 
Orr’s Island,’ of course !” she exclaimed, disdainfully. 44 I 
should think you would know it by heart by this time !” 

“ I do, almost,” replied Laura. 44 I have my other two 
favorites in my trunk, — Jane Austen’s 4 Persuasion,’ and 
Baroness Tautphoeus’s’ 4 Initials.’ So I am provided for in 
case of there being no library in Castine.” 

44 You must lend me 4 The Pearl of Orr’s Island’ when you 
are done with it, Laura,” said Sarah. 44 1 have never read 
it.” 

44 You can have it now,” answered Laura ; and Sarah, at 
once putting away her knitting, took the book, and, lean- 
ing back against a coil of rope, with her sun-umbrella for a 
shade, was soon lost to all knowledge of her actual surround- 
ings in the perusal of the fascinating 44 story of the coast of 
Maine.” 

The point was passed, and the captain called out, 44 Now, 
ladies, you can see the 4 Agamenticus.” 

They looked around. The bay lay broad and open before 
them, and not far off was the big, black monitor, its heavy 


CROSSING THE BAY . 


61 


turrets relieved somewhat by the awnings over the deck and 
the clothes-lines full of bright-colored flannel shirts'hung out 
to air in the sun. 

“ The 1 Agamenticus,’ ” said Laura, musingly. “ Mother, 
isn’t that the ship Ned Simmons joined last year ?” 

“ Sure enough !” was Mrs. Preble’s reply. “ How glad his 
poor mother would be if she could be as near him as we are 
now !” 

“ Who is Ned Simmons ?” asked Lilian. 

“ Oh, he is only the son of one of mother’s old friends,” re- 
plied Laura. “ He has been wild, and has given his family a 
great deal of trouble, but they think he is doing better since he 
became lieutenant. He had just returned from a long cruise 
when we saw him last year. Now that he has joined this ship 
he will be likely to stay near home for some time.” 

Pretty soon the captain came up. “ The breeze is dyin’ 
away, mum, and we’re likely to have a slow time of it. 
Maybe it would amuse you and the young ladies to go over 
to the monitor yonder. I’ve taken several parties to see her 
since she’s been in these waters. I’ll send the man, or I’ll 
take you over myself if you’d rather go with me.” 

“ Oh, aunty, do let us go,” cried Lilian. “ It would be 
such a relief from this monotony.” 

“ Thank you very much for your kind offer, captain,” 
said Mrs. Preble, “ but we are very comfortable here, and, as 
we are so small a party, I think it would be better not to 
g°” 

“ Just as you choose, mum,” said the captain, as he turned 
away. “ If you conclude you want to go, ’tain’t no trouble 
to me.” 

“ Oh, Aunt Lucy, why won’t you go?” exclaimed Lilian, 
who already saw herself exploring the “Agamenticus” with 
Ned Simmons or some other dashing young naval officer as 
her escort. An hour or so of that rapid flirtation which ex- 
perienced beaux and belles know so well how to condense 
within a small allowance of time would give such piquant 
variety to the dull quiet of this twelve miles’ sail. 

“ Child, what are you thinking of?” exclaimed Mrs. Preble. 
“ How would it look for us four women to go over to that ship 
with only the captain ?” 

“ He said he had taken parties over before, and he wouldn’t 
6 


62 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL. 


have proposed it if it had not been the custom and perfectly 
proper,” rejoined Lilian, in a rather pert tone. 

“ His notions of propriety may be different from mine,” 
answered Mrs. Preble, calmly. “ Still, I do not think he was 
surprised at my refusal. If your uncle were here it would be 
different ; though I doubt very much whether he would think 
it best to go. The other parties that went over were prob- 
ably not all ladies, still less likely that three out of four ladies 
were young girls.” 

“ But you are acquainted with one of the officers,” per- 
sisted Lilian. “ And it would do his mother so much good 
to know that you had seen him.” 

“ Ned Simmons is the last young man I should take my 
daughter to see. And his mother is so near him now that 
she does not need the comfort of my visit.” 

“ Well,” said Lilian, decidedly, “ I don l t believe in people 
being so afraid of doing something improper. . If one’s con- 
science is clear, I don’t see any harm in going where one 
wants to and doing what one likes.” 

“ Unfortunately, such a theory doesn’t work well in prac- 
tice,” said Mrs. Preble, drily. “ We all, young girls espe- 
cially, must be very careful where we go and what we do. 
For, though our own consciences may be pure, there are al- 
ways enough people around us with unclean consciences, or 
none at all, and we run the risk of not only being misjudged, 
but of actually falling into danger, if we persist in letting our 
innocence be our only guide. A good deal of the wisdom of 
the serpent is necessary in passing through such a world as 
this is.” 

Lilian was silent a minute, then she broke out with, “ You 
didn’t think there was any harm in taking Laura to Lord 
Harewood’s country-seat when he was there alone keeping 
1 bachelor’s hall.’ ” 

“ Lilian, what a speech !” exclaimed Mrs. Preble, with 
manifest displeasure. “ You know very well that Laura and 
I went down with a large party of relatives and old friends of 
the family to spend Christmas at the Hall. The house was 
full of people, and we stayed only two days, while the others 
remained a week longer. I should like to know what resem- 
blance there is between accepting an invitation to join a party 
of guests at a private house, and going alone with three girls 


CROSSING THE BAY . 63 

to visit a ship-load of officers who never laid eyes on us 
before.” 

Lilian settled herself in sullen silence, with her back to the 
forbidden ship, and gazed towards Belfast with unremarking 
eyes. She had touched upon a subject which had caused her 
much curiosity and annoyance. For she had heard from 
mutual acquaintances, who were in England at the time, that 
Laura had been greatly admired by the young nobleman in 
question, who had paid her the most marked attention during 
the whole of a London season, and, it was whispered, had 
actually offered himself in vain. But beyond these surmises 
Lilian could learn nothing of the matter. Neither Laura nor 
her mother ever spoke of her conquests at home or abroad, 
and so the fact, if fact it was, of an American girl having re- 
fused an English title was likely to be lost, with all its whole- 
some influences, to her countrywomen of the present generation 
and of all future time. 

“ I’m going to have a frolic with the dog,” said Laura. 

“ Oh, don’t bring that dirty creature over here,” remon- 
strated Lilian. “ He’s all hairs and fleas, and if we begin to 
notice him we never can get rid of him again.” 

“ I won’t let him come near you,” was Laura’s reply, as she 
began with coaxing words and gestures to cultivate the acquaint- 
ance of the stately animal, who was now sitting bolt upright, in- 
tently regarding her. In a few minutes he decided to accept 
her friendly overtures, and, stalking solemnly along the deck, 
with a slow waving of his white-tipped feathery tail, he seated 
himself in front of her and awaited further advances. 

“ Wouldn’t you like a nice bone, you lovely creature?” she 
asked, as she began to unroll the paper she had filled at the 
hotel. “ What do you think of that ?” she added, presenting 
a long strip of gristly beefsteak, which was snapped at and 
gulped down in an instant, the dog’s dignity remaining un- 
ruffled, excepting that his eyes watched Laura’s motions 
eagerly, and his nose wrinkled a little, catching the scent of 
the tidbits still in store for him. “ He thinks it is dinner- 
time,” said Laura, “ and I begin to think so too,” she added, 
looking at her watch as the last mouthful was offered and 
despatched. “ I declare, it is one o’clock.” 

“ Well, then, do send him away, and let us have our lunch,” 
said Lilian, pettishly. 


64 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL. 


“ Oh, dear me !” exclaimed Laura, as she returned to her 
companions after escorting the dog to the other end of the 
vessel, “ there is the most distractingly delicious odor of fried 
onions coming up out of that little hole of a kitchen ! 1 do 
wonder what they are going to have for dinner ! Give me 
the luncheon-basket, mother; let me forget that heavenly 
whiff in something to eat. Come, Lilian, I know you are 
hungry, and mother has earned her lunch, she has been work- 
ing so steadily at that stupid tatting. As for Sarah, she has 
forgotten all about us, and doesn’t deserve anything to eat.” 

There was a stir under the umbrella, and Sarah’s smiling 
face came to view. 

“ Indeed,” she said, “ I doubt whether I should have known 
that it was dinner-time if I had not just come to such a tempt- 
ing description of Mr. Kittredge’s chowder down on the beach. 
I couldn’t help wishing I could join their party.” 

“ Well, you can join ours instead,” said Laura, as she 
passed the bag of sponge-cakes and Graham crackers to each 
in turn. 

“ I don’t see why I am so hungry,” said Lilian. “ I ate a 
very hearty breakfast.” 

“ It’s the meat,” said Laura, in a decided tone. “ You 
may laugh at vegetarians as much as you choose, Lilian, but 
it is a fact that we do not suffer so much when we are empty as 
you do. I suppose meat stimulates the stomach very strongly, 
and so the reaction is greater after digestion is finished.” 

“ No,” retorted Lilian ; “ it is because you are half starved 
all the time, and so you don’t mind it so much when you are 
quite starved.” 

They all laughed, and Mrs. Preble said, — 

“ I think it is the air. Although it is so pleasantly 
warm in the sun, the air is very bracing, and we have been 
out in it a long time.” 

“ I can see the captain looking over here every little while,” 
whispered Sarah, who sat opposite the cabin door. “ I sup- 
pose he is wondering what we have got to eat.” 

“ He needn’t wonder any longer, then,” replied Laura. 
“ The sponge-cakes are all gone, and here is the last cracker. 
I’ll divide it into four pieces, and we’ll eat it, and make our 
wills, and lie down and — die I” 

But this tragic consummation was not to be reached by our 


CROSSING THE BAY. 


65 


hungry travellers. They had scarcely swallowed the last four 
bits of cracker and picked up all the crumbs they could find 
lurking in the folds of their dresses, when the captain came 
slowly up the cabin stairs, carrying in each hand a steaming 
soup-plate, upon which he kept his eyes sternly fixed as he 
passed along the deck. 

“ Ladies,” said he, “ I guess you must be hungry enough 
by this time to relish some of our chowder. I swow ! this is 
one of the longest forenoons I ever see in my life !” 

Laura sprang up to relieve him of the plates. 

“ Oh, captain,” she exclaimed, “ you are just the best man 
in the world, and there is nothing so good as chowder when 
folks are on the sea-coast! We are as hungry as bears, and 
our lunch doesn’t seem to help us a bit !” 

There was a chorus of thanks from the others as the captain 
set the two plates down on two stools and hurried back to the 
cabin for the other dishes of chowder. 

“ There’s plenty more where that come from,” said he, as 
he handed Laura and Sarah their plates. “ W e’ve got a 
powerful big kittle down there, and I loaded up with codfish 
and potatoes and hard bread while you was gone to break- 
fast, for I thought it looked as though we was goin’ to have a 
regular time. You just sing out when you want some more. 
You know we can’t do things in style aboard such a craft as 
this is.” 

“ It is all as nice as possible,” said Mrs. Preble, u and we 
shall never forget your kindness.” 

“ That’s what the fried onions meant,” said Laura, as soon 
as the captain was out of hearing. “ They would have haunted 
me forever if I hadn’t got this chowder 1” 

“ It is excellent,” said her mother. “ And we are ex- 
cusable for breaking our rules under such circumstances. I 
suppose the fat is salt pork ; but I can’t help it. And how 
well it is seasoned ! Men generally put too much pepper in 
their cooking.” 

“ Do you think it would be proper to take him at his word 
and ask for a second plateful ?” asked Laura. 

“ Why, yes ; I think he meant he had enough,” answered 
her mother. 

“ Perhaps it would be the best way to convince him that 
we really like his chowder,” remarked Lilian. 

6 * 


e 


66 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL. 


“ Then I’ll go and ask,” said Laura. “ It will be more 
polite than calling him, as though we were in a hotel.” 

She took her empty plate and went softly along the deck 
until she reached the cabin steps, then, stooping down, she 
said, — 

“ Are you sure, captain, that you have enough chowder to 
give us a little more ?” 

“ Lord bless you, miss, yes, indeed ! the kittle’s more’n 
half full this minute.” 

“ But suppose we should be becalmed for a week : perhaps 
we ought to be saving our store of provision,” she suggested, 
mischievously. 

The captain chuckled. “ ’Taint goin’ to be quite as bad 
as that” said he. “I guess it’s safe to peg away at the 
chowder.” 

So the plates were filled and again emptied, and then 
Laura piled them together and set them down at the top of 
the cabin stairs. 

u Thank you ever so much for our good dinner,” she called 
out to the captain, who was sitting on his bunk, smoking a 

pipe* 

“ All right, miss ; I’m glad you liked it,” was the captain’s 
reply as he came on deck to take the helm, while the sailor 
went down to eat and smoke in his turn. 

“ What shall you do about paying, Aunt Lucy ?” asked 
Lilian, after the captain had gone by. 

“ That is just what I have been thinking about,” said Mrs. 
Preble. “ It would not do to offer the money outright, as he 
evidently meant to be hospitable : so when I pay the fare I 
shall give him three or four dollars extra, and tell him it 
is to buy books with to while away the time when he is 
becalmed.” 

“ Yes, that will be the best way,” they all said. 

“ Now my hunger is satisfied I’m going to take a nap,” 
said Lilian. “ c Qui dort dine,' you know, and I have not 
the least faith in our getting to Castine before we are starved 
again.” 

So saying, she went off to the shady side of the deck, and 
lay down with her shawl-strap for a pillow. 

“ Sarah, I know you’re aching to get at your novel again,” 
said Laura, “ so don’t stay with us out of politeness. Mother 


CROSSING THE BAY . 


67 


must lie down too, and, as I don’t feel sleepy, I’m going to 
make a little sketch of our surroundings, to keep as a souvenir 
of this delightful trip.” 

Sarah returned gladly to her umbrella-tent and her “ Pearl 
of Orr’s Island,” and Laura, after spreading a shawl over her 
mother and arranging the satchels so as to make her a com- 
fortable back to lean against, took her seat at a short distance 
from the others and began her sketch, while her thoughts 
wandered pleasantly, as the thoughts of girls are apt to do 
when their health is sound and their hearts are not yet given 
up to the sweet madness of love. 

She thought of her father and of the pile of postals which 
must be awaiting them in Castine, of her brother and his wife 
in their luxurious Western home, of hosts of relatives and 
friends who were soon to be scattered among sea-side watering- 
places and inland mountain-resorts. 

“ If our summer is all going to be as dreamy and beautiful 
as it is to-day,” she said to herself, “ it will be the happiest 
time of my life, so far.” 

She looked across the blue expanse, and then around at the 
wooded shore and the long low island they were slowly ap- 
proaching. She was now near enough to discern the tiny 
coves and headlands which gave variety to the outline. She 
could see the reflection of the slender birch-trees and the 
sturdy firs in the glassy water, which was leaving a wider riug 
of wet pebbles with each pulsation of the ebbing tide, and she 
thought how refreshing it would be to land for a few moments 
and wander about in a spot which showed no signs of human 
habitation. And if they could only stay long enough to build 
a fire and hang a kettle on cross-sticks and boil some potatoes. 

A fire out of doors, with a kettle hanging on cross -sticks, 
had been Laura’s ideal of happiness from childhood ; but, not 
being allowed to play with fire in the garden of her father’s 
city house, she had been obliged to content herself with an 
occasional treat during her visits to the Dempster farm, where, 
after Mrs. Davis and Polly had finished a hard day’s work at 
soap-boiling in the back yard, Laura was free to gather the 
blackened brands and make a roaring blaze, which showed 
magnificently against the evening sky and left a glorious bed 
of embers for the apples and potatoes which were duly roasted 
for supper. 


68 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL . 


On such occasions her father, watching her glee, would 
tease her by declaring that she was not his little girl, but a 
gypsy child he had found in the woods, and, when he had 
made her cry, would pull her long yellow curls, and tell her 
that gypsy children always had straight black hair, and that 
she was a true Wentworth, and the very image of her grand- 
mother Preble. 

These scenes and many others passed before Laura’s mental 
vision, until her drawing was forgotten, and, leaning her head 
on her hands, she gave herself up fully to thought. What did 
it all mean, this life which she found so agreeable and yet 
not always entirely satisfying ? For instance, this day’s en- 
joyment was perfect, so far as it went ; but she should soon 
tire of such experiences. Was the future bringing emotions 
more absorbing than any she had yet known ? Should she 
ever feel really happy, or would it always be impossible for a 
child of earth to implore of a moment of pleasure, “ Stay, thou 
art fair” ? 

This constant expectation, this acceptance of present joy 
under protest, as it were, because something better is desired 
and anticipated, — what could be more wearying to mind and 
heart ? And if it be so in youth, what a burden must old 
age have to carry ! For retrospect, though more delightful 
even than present consciousness, is still tinted and toned with 
sadness, because past joys can return no more, and when the 
time is gone by for looking forward, and the present is void 
of interest, how mournful must it be to summon up continually 
the ghosts of earlier days ! Better to die young (she thought) 
than to live on with only Memory and Begret for her com- 
panions. 

“I feel so refreshed by that nap!” said Mrs. Preble. “I 
wonder whether we should really be healthier if we were 
always to sleep out of doors. Bjit of course we couldn’t do 
it in our climate.” ^ 

“ We are nearly around Turtle Head,” cried Laura, as her 
mother rose to a sitting posture. “ Get up, Lilian, or I shall 
be the first to see Castine.” 

“ Where is Castine ?” asked Lilian, with a yawn, as she 
approached Laura. 

“ Wal,” said the captain, who heard the question, “you 
can’t see the village yet awhile. It’s ’round the p’int. But 


CROSSING THE BAY. 


69 


that dark mess of trees to the east, the furthest land of all, is 
Block House Head, and that’s the same as Castine. It’s 
close by.” 

u I never saw such a country for points !” said Lilian. 

“ That’s the beauty of it,” replied Laura. “ Wherever 
there is a point, there is sure to be a cove on one side or the 
other, or on both sides. Just think how much more variety 
it gives to the scenery than as though the shore were straight. 
I wonder whether all those green tufts belong to the main- 
land !” 

“ Them’s islands, miss,” answered the captain. “ Penob- 
scot Bay is full of islands. Beer Isle is away down there be- 
hind that last p’int. That long strip on the horizon is the 
mainland. There ain’t nothin’ on it but farms till you come 
to Brooksville, opposite Castine. That high land to the south 
is Holbrook’s Island. There’s some of the best slate in the 
whole world on that hill. But, you see, the rock stands so 
sheer out of the water that ’tain’t no use to try to quarry it. 
Fact ! it’s been tried several times, but the minute it’s blasted 
off, the whole chunk goes kerslosh into the water, and there’s 
an end on’t. Holbrook’s Island ain’t good for nothin’ but 
picnics, but it’s ’mazin’ good for them ! That next island, with 
a white house on’t, is Nautilus Island. That’s the nearest to 
Castine.” 

“ What a pretty name !” exclaimed "Mrs. Preble. “ And 
there are mountains in the distance.” 

“ Yes’m ; that’s Blue Hill, that big one standin’ up alone. 
It’s always blue like that. And there’s Camden Hills to the 
west’ard. And that long line to the south, that looks like a 
bank of clouds, is Mount Desert.” 

“ Mount Desert !” repeated Lilian, with a new light in her 
eyes as she fixed them upon the cloudy range. “ I wonder, 
Aunt Lucy, that you didn’t choose that place for the summer, 
instead of Castine.” 

“ No, it is too much of a general resort for me,” replied 
Mrs. Preble. u I need to be quiet, and there is not likely to 
be a crowd at Castine, this year at least.” 

The sun set behind Camden Hills, and gradually a crimson 
flush crept over the sky and was reflected in the glassy water 
beneath. It lasted only a few minutes, and then the mountains 
turned gray and cold, the sea grew dark, and the sails of a 


70 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL . 


distant vessel, which had caught a rosy hue, stood out white 
against the dim horizon. 

What little breeze there was went down with the sun : the 
sloop lay motionless, and the men busied themselves in taking 
down and rolling up the idle sails. 

“ It ain’t no use,” said the captain. “ We’ve just got to 
row, and this plaguy tide a runnin’ out every minute, too !” 

“ Ladies, I wish I could treat you to a good supper,” he 
called out, after a short interval of hard work at the oars. 
“ But I hain’t got nothin’ but the chowder. There’s enough of 
that, though, and I’ll warm it up right away.” 

“ The chowder is the best thing we could have,” answered 
Mrs. Preble. “ But where is Castine ?” 

“ Oh, we’re nearin’ it all the time, but you don’t see it till 
just before you get there. The moon ’ll be up in a few min- 
utes, and you’ll have a fine view of the harbor goin’ in.” 

So saying, the captain gave up his oar and went down into 
the kitchen to prepare supper. 

“ What a Rembrandt picture it makes !” exclaimed Laura, 
watching with delighted eyes the play of the firelight from the 
open griddle upon the captain’s face, while a small hanging 
lamp shone like a star in the farther corner of the little cabin. 
The lantern on the mast was of more use as a warning to 
other vessels than as an illumination of their own : still it shed 
down sufficient light to enable the captain to land his soup- 
plates in safety upon the stools, and the ladies to eat with 
comfort. After all was cleared away and the men had had 
their supper, the ladies seated themselves in the forward part 
of the deck and watched the shore they were nearing, while 
the rowers bent to their oars with renewed zeal, sending the 
sloop forward more rapidly than it had moved all day under 
the impulse of its sails. 

u I can scarcely wait to get around the point !” said Laura. 
“ There’s my light-house, at any rate !” she cried, as a low 
white tower came into view. “ I have seen that light for ever 
so long, but it never occurred to me what it must be.” 

“ Now you can see Castine !” called out the captain, as he 
stopped rowing to allow his companion to turn the vessel 
around the point. 

They all stood up and looked eagerly at the shore. They 
were gliding slowly past a low bank, above which the land 


CROSSING THE BAY . 


71 


stretched back in a gentle slope entirely bare of trees or any 
trace of vegetation excepting the short grass which covered 
the soil. A little distance ahead was a battery, its turf- 
covered angles showing striking alternations of light and shade 
in the moonbeams. But no sentinel was visible ; the windows 
of the long, low house were dark, and the tall pole was with- 
out a flag. Beyond was the town, a mass of buildings with a 
few tree-tops showing above the roofs, aud highest of all two 
slender church spires. 

“ Is that an old fort ?” asked Mrs. Preble. 

“ No’m : that was built during the war. But it stands close 
to the ruins of the old French fort. And the big fort is up 
there,” he continued, pointing to a slight elevation in the dis- 
tance, which the most careless glance would at once distinguish 
from a natural hill. “ That’s the old British fort, — St. George’s. 
But there’s nothin’ left of it exceptin’ the shape, aud one or 
two old cellars, like.” 

After passing the battery, a few scattered dwelling-houses 
became visible, — little white cottages, with neat gardens sloping 
down to the rocky bank. These grew more numerous and 
closer together as the vessel went onward, and at last came a 
row of wharves with a few dingy shops immediately back of 
them, and farther beyond a steep street lined on both sides 
with houses and leading up to the main village on the height. 

The captain worked the vessel up to one of the wharves ; 
the sailor threw a rope over a post and drew the sloop still 
nearer, then he laid a plank from the deck to a flight of steps, 
and, crossing over, his head presently appeared through a trap- 
door in the wharf, and he approached the side to assist in the 
landing of passengers and freight. 

“ There ain’t a soul to be seen,” he said to the captain. 
“ All gone to bed long ago.” 

“ Wal, we must do the best we can,” was the reply. 

“ Why, where’s the beach ?” asked Mrs. Preble, in sur- 
prise. 

“ Beach ?” repeated the captain. “ Castine hain’t got no 
beach, and never had. If it was only high tide I could land 
you right on top of the wharf ; but there ain’t no other way 
now but for you to climb up them stairs. I’ll help you, 
though, so ’s’t you won’t fall into the water.” 

So one by one our travellers were led over the plank and up 


72 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL. 


the narrow, slippery stairs to the wharf, and then the party 
proceeded up the hill and into a cross-street which led them, 
in a few minutes, to the front door of the Acadian Hotel. 

“ It’s as dark as a pocket,” said the captain, as he looked 
at the closed windows. “ But I s’pose I can rouse ’em.” 

He gave two or three stout raps on the old-fashioned 
knocker, and after a few moments a light flickered through 
the fan-window above the door, and steps were heard comiug 
slowly down the stairs. 

“ Who’s there ?” asked a woman’s voice. 

“ It’s me, Mrs. Turner, — Captain Harris, of the 1 Spy.’ 
I’ve brought you some passengers. We’ve only just got in.” 

The door was immediately opened, and the woman stepped 
back to allow the guests to enter. 

“ That’s Mrs. Turner, your landlady : so now you’re all 
right,” said the captain, as he turned to go. 

The ladies bade their escort good-night, and Mrs. Turner 
closed and locked the door. 

“ Would you like anything before going to your rooms?” 
she asked, — “ a cup of tea, or something to eat ?” 

“No, thank you,” said Mrs. Preble: “we had supper on 
the packet, and can very well wait till morning. If you will 
show us our rooms, we will go directly to bed. We are very 
tired.” 

The landlady looked relieved. “ I should think you would 
be tired,”* she said, in a sympathizing tone. “ I’d rather do a 
hard day’s work any time than cross the bay in that old 
packet !” 

Without further delay she preceded the party up-stairs, and 
threw open a door at the end of a wide hall. 

“ There’s another room adjoining,” she said, as she lit the 
candle. “ If you can make out with these two rooms to-night, 
I’ll have the others ready to-morrow, and you can take your 
choice of them all. It’s rather early in the season, and you 
are the first arrivals from below.” 

“ That is rather uncomplimentary to Boston,” said Laura, 
as the door closed on the landlady, “ to say we came from 
‘ below’ ! Come, Lilian, I suppose you and I are to have the 
other room. Good-night, dear mother,” she added, kissing 
her tenderly. “ Do you feel very tired ?” 

“ Oh, I shall be rested by morning. But you ought to be 


CROSSING THE BAY. 


73 


thankful, all of you, that I am not a tea-drinking old woman, 
and can go to bed on a supper of chowder as well as the 
youngest of you. There’s another advantage of vegetarian 
habits !” 

The four ladies made short work of preparing for bed. 
Even Lilian’s prayers were abbreviated, and Laura, while her 
cousin was on her knees, threw a shawl over her night-dress, 
and opened the blind to look out. She could hardly repress 
a cry of astonishment and delight at the beauty of the scene. 
The moon was shining in full splendor upon the quiet bay, 
and the islands, which she had scarcely noticed in her eager- 
ness to see the town, not only looked higher and more pic- 
turesque from her present level, but were reflected with won- 
drous fidelity in the mirror-like water around their shores. 
The distant mainland, too, was more hilly than she had sup- 
posed, and the Camden range now took on the grandeur of 
mountains. 

The village was asleep, and Laura found satisfaction in the 
thought that probably no eyes but hers were now enjoying the 
lovely prospect. If this was selfishness, it was the only form 
in which that exceedingly human trait was wont to display 
itself in Laura’s character. She did not grudge to her fellow- 
beings any of their individual pleasures, nor such of her own 
as they could share, but she loved to be alone with her 
thoughts, and to realize that her heart, like every other, had 
joys in which a stranger might not intermeddle. 

“ There seems to be a large, shady garden running down 
almost to the water,” was her only comment, as she closed the 
blind on hearing Lilian move. 

“ Well, I do wish you would get into bed, so that I can 
put out the light,” was the fretful reply. 

“ Oh, you want to sleep on the front side again, do you?” 
said Laura, slyly, as she crept over towards the wall. 


D 


7 


74 


LAURA , AA AMERICAN GIRL . 


CHAPTER VIII. 

THE FIRST MORNING IN CASTINE. 

Mrs. Preble was the first to awaken the next morning, 
and she arose at once, dressing as quietly as possible, so as not 
to disturb the younger sleepers. She was haunted by the 
pile of post-cards which were doubtless awaiting her order, 
and she had resolved to go or send for them before the girls 
should be ready to do the errand for her. 

“ Poor things !” she said to herself, “ they imagine that 
the romance of life belongs entirely to young people. They 
have no idea of what it is to have a lover-husband of thirty 
years’ possession !” 

And then followed anxious thoughts concerning Laura’s 
future, — hopes that the mother’s exceptional happiness might 
be the daughter’s portion also, — fears lest the more common 
lot of matrimonial dissatisfaction or indifference should grieve 
parent and child alike, or the familiar New England fate of 
perpetual maidenhood should leave the girl forever solitary 
beside her father’s hearth. 

As she was putting on her bonnet and shawl, Sarah started 
and attempted to rise, but immediately fell back on her pillow 
with a groan. 

“ What is the matter?” asked Mrs. Preble, in alarm. 

“ Oh, one of my terrible headaches, that is all ! I think 
I’d better lie quiet awhile longer, and perhaps it will 
go off.” 

“ Of course, lie still. But what can I do for you ?” 

“ Nothing, thank you, aunt ; only, by and by, when you go 
to breakfast, you may send me up a cup of tea. If anything 
will stop it, that will.” 

“ I’m afraid you ought to have had the tea last night. I 
never thought of you girls when I refused it. I never drink 
tea myself, and I did not want to disturb the landlady any 
more than we could help, it was so late.” 

“ I don’t think it would have made any difference. I 
always have a headache after being very tired or sitting up 


THE FIRST MORNING IN CASTINE . 


75 


beyond my usual bedtime. I don’t dare have it any more 
than I can possibly help in term-time, but now that I have 
nothing to do, I suppose my old head will take its revenge.” 

“ Poor Sarah ! you have a hard life of it I” said Mrs. 
Preble, smoothing her hair caressingly. 

Any expression of sympathy always made Sarah feel like 
crying; but she knew that to indulge in tears would only 
increase her pain, and so she lay quiet, with her eyes tightly 
closed. 

“ I’ll darken the room,” said Mrs. Preble, “ and warn the 
girls not to make a noise. If you can go to sleep again, it 
will be the best thing for you.” 

Laura woke as her mother opened the door, and sat up in 
surprise at seeing her already dressed. 

“ I’m going out for a breath of air,” Mrs. Preble said. 
“ Sarah has a dreadful headache, and you must be as still as 
possible while you are dressing. If that other door leads 
into the hall, you’d better not go through my room. Yes, it 
does,” she added, opening the door. “ I’ll go out this way, 
too.” 

“ Is father well ?” Laura called out, anxiously, as her 
mother opened the door on her return. 

“ Yes,” was the glad reply ; and then Laura exclaimed, 
“ You naughty mother 1 Why didn’t you let me go for the 
mail ?” 

“ Oh, it was only a step, and I wanted to walk. Castine is 
a pretty place, girls. But I must see who has letters. There 
are four for you, Lilian, and one for Sarah, and one for you, 
Laura.” 

“ Yours is a foreign letter,” said Lilian, catching sight of 
the many stamps. 

“ Yes ; it is from a friend in England.” 

“ I love my love with an 4 H,’ ” suggested Lilian, playfully, 
in allusion to Lord Harewood. 

44 I know you do,” replied Laura, in the same tone. 44 But 
I don’t. You may have the whole alphabet to express your 
feelings in, for aught I care.” 

They went down to breakfast, and Mrs. Turner brought in 
the tea-things on a small waiter for Sarah. 

44 Let me carry up Sarah’s tea,” said Laura. il I haven’t 
seen her this morning.” 


76 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL. 


“ If she isn’t sound asleep she’d better rouse herself enough 
to drink the tea,” said Mrs. Preble. “ If she will take a drop 
of belladonna first, you’d better give it to her. The case is in 
my satchel.” 

Laura opened the door very gently, but Sarah heard her, 
and called out, “ I’m not asleep.” 

“ Well, then,” said Laura, “ I’ll open the blind a little and 
give you some medicine, and then you can drink your tea, and 
perhaps you will feel better soon. I’m afraid you read too 
steadily in the sun yesterday. I’ve brought you a letter, too. 
I think it is from your aunt Abby. The air is delicious, and 
as soon as you can get your regular meals you will pick up 
wonderfully ; I know you will.” 

So saying, Laura moved about quickly and quietly, minis- 
tering to Sarah’s wants. She partly opened the blinds, and 
let down the curtains to soften the light, wet a towel and 
wiped Sarah’s face and hands, smoothed back her hair, and 
assisted her to sit up in bed and lean against a pile of pillows, 
then, pouring out the tea and making it just right with milk 
and sugar, she seated herself on the edge of the bed with the 
cup while Sarah drank the cooler portion from the saucer. 

“ Now I’ll take the pillows away,” said she, as soon as the 
cup was emptied, “ and you go to sleep, and I’ll go down to 
my breakfast.” 

“ Haven’t you had your breakfast yet ?” asked Sarah, in a 
faint voice. 

“ No. The landlady brought your tea in with the rest of 
the things, and I was afraid it would get cold.” 

“ I am sorry,” said Sarah. 

“ You needn’t be. Do you know, mother went to the post- 
office before I was dressed, and brought the letters ? Father 
is well, and there is a pile of cards to read.” 

“ I am glad,” said Sarah. 

“Well, I mustn’t talk to you any more now. You must 
get well as fast as you can. Castine is a lovely place, and 
you don’t want to lose this fine weather.” 

She slipped noiselessly out of the room, and Sarah thought 
in her pain how pleasant it was to be with relations who were 
considerate and kind. Her aunt i^bby had meant to do her 
duty by her niece, but she had never had much pity for her 
headaches, and regarded it as nonsense to darken a room and 


THE FIRST MORNING IN CASTINE. 


77 


speak in a low tone for any illness short of the scarlet fever 
or the typhus, she herself having nearly died of those maladies 
in her far-away youth. 

“ How lonely you two look in this great big dining-room 1” 
exclaimed Laura, as she entered. 

“ Yes. It is to be hoped it won’t be so empty as this all 
summer,” replied Lilian. 

u Here is a good breakfast for you,” said Mrs. Preble ; 
“ and everything is as neat as wax. I looked in the teacups, 
and they were as clean as possible. You know my pet horror 
is to find sugar sticking in the bottom of a cup. As soon as 
you are done, we will see about the rooms, and then go down 
to the packet for the trunks.” 

“ If you will excuse me, aunt, I think I’ll stay here and 
rest. I feel rather tired,” said Lilian. 

“ Certainly. You can read your letters while we are away. 
I want to know how your mother is getting on.” 

In a short time Laura announced herself as ready, and the 
three left the dining-room, meeting Mrs. Turner in the hall, 
who went with them at once to inspect the chambers. 

“ You had two of the best rooms last night,” she said. 
“ They look south, and have a view of the water. And here 
are two just like them,” she added, opening a door on the 
opposite side of the hall. “ Those that front the street are 
smaller, and they look to the north ; but some folks like them 
all the better for that in summer. They are cooler than the 
others.” 

“ I am not afraid of the heat in this climate,” answered 
Mrs. Preble, with a smile, “ and we want the water-view. I 
think we will take three of the south rooms. I will keep the 
one I have for myself and my daughter.” 

“ And I will take this large one opposite, Aunt Lucy,” 
said Lilian. “ There will be only the hall between us then.” 

“ Very well ; then the small one next mine will be Sarah’s. 
Now, as soon as I have looked in to see how she is, Laura and 
I will go down to see about the trunks. If they come before 
we do, you can attend to having them carried up-stairs, 
Lilian.” 

A few minutes later, mother and daughter stepped out into 
the sunny street and took their way towards the wharf. 

“ It seems so good to be alone with you once more, mamma 
7 * 


78 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL. 


dear !” said Laura, as she put her arm around her mother’s 
shoulder and walked close by her side. 

“ Well, this is a queer town !” exclaimed Mrs. Preble, after 
a short progress down the hill. “ Just look up and down, 
Laura. This is Main Street, and there is not a living being 
but ourselves to be seen ! It was exactly the same when I 
went to the post-office ; but I supposed it was because they 
were all at breakfast. And how still it is ! You cannot hear 
a sound but the plash of the water !” 

“ Blessed stillness !” cried Laura. “ I only hope it may 
last 1 I am tired of the noise of cities. I suppose the busi- 
ness people are in those stores and shops,” she continued, as 
they came to the cross-street and saw a row of rather shabby 
buildings on either side, apparently devoted to mercantile 
affairs. 

“ Yes, but where are the customers ?” persisted Mrs. Preble. 
u And where are the wagons and carts?” 

“ Maybe they go about in boats,” suggested Laura. “ How 
romantic that would be ! Like Venice !” 

u Well, I hope we can find one wagon,” replied her practical 
mother. “ For our trunks cannot be carried up to the hotel 
in a boat.” 

The packet lay at the same wharf they had landed at ; but 
the tide had lifted it so high that it was an easy matter to step 
on board. They found the captain in the cabin, smoking his 
pipe in contented solitude. 

“ As for them trunks,” said he, “ I could send the small 
ones on a wheelbarrow by goin’ twice. But that big one’s so 
amazin’ heavy that it’ll take a regular team to draw it. You 
just wait till the steamer comes in this afternoon, and then 
there’ll be wagons enough down here. I’m goin’ to stay 
Ground, and I’ll see to ’em.” 

“ Thank you very much. That will be the best way,” said 
Mrs. Preble. 

“ Good-by, captain. We shall never forget our pleasant 
trip with you, including the chowder !” said Laura, as, after 
the business was settled, she followed her mother across the 
wharf, adding, so soon as they were out of hearing, u I hope 
you didn’t forget to give him something extra for our meals.” 

“ No, indeed,” replied her mother. “ I gave him five dol- 
lars, besides the fare. It wasn’t too much for two meals for 


THE FIRST MORNING IN CASTINE. 


79 


four persons ; but lie didn’t want to take anything, and it was 
only by disguising it as a present for books that I could get 
him to accept it. 

“ That is what I like about Americans. They do favors 
without expecting a reward. Of course the materials for that 
chowder did not cost very much, and he would have been 
obliged to cook something if he had been alone. But there 
was the good will and the trouble, and a little actual loss be- 
sides. And even poor people, who cannot afford to give away 
so much as that, will do hundreds of little kindnesses out of 
pure generosity of feeling, for which the same kind of people 
in the Old World would feel very much aggrieved if they did 
not receive pay. I suppose it is the certainty in this country 
of being able to find enough to eat and drink that makes the 
difference, however. In Europe it doesn’t answer for poor 
people to be too generous.” 

“It is all going to be charming here: I can see that 
already,” cried Laura. “ Let us go down this road a little 
way. We can sit in a shady place on one of those old 
wharves, and read father’s cards, and have a good time all by 
ourselves.” 

They sauntered down the irregular street, past pretty flower- 
gardens belonging to neat houses standing farther up the hill, 
past cottages fronting the sea, past neglected ship-yards 
cumbered with weather-beaten timbers and carpeted with shiny 
gray chips, until they came to an open space, the commence- 
ment of a wide spreading meadow, or common, extending 
along the shore as far as the light-house, with only the vivid 
green of the battery to interrupt its monotony. Just here 
was the last of the broken line of wharves, — a narrow pier with 
a shed at the farther end, apparently an occasional landing- 
place and storehouse for some small enterprise of the vicinity. 

“ Let us rest here,” said Laura. “ This wharf is new, and 
hasn’t any ugly holes in it, as the old ones have. We can sit 
in the sun. Our parasols will shade us, and the wall of the 
shed will be a good support.” 

Wheu the reading was finished, they both sat in dreamy 
content, looking out over the placid surface of the bay towards 
the offing, where a few sails were dimly visible. 

“ How strange it is,” said. Mrs. Preble, after a long pause, 
“ that we should be away up here, almost at the northeastern 


80 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL. 


corner of the whole country, and your father away down there 
in the southwestern, — and we looking out on the Atlantic 
and he on the Pacific! People used to say, 1 from Maine to 
Georgia ,’ when they wanted to express the widest distance 
apart. But that sounds silly enough nowadays !” 

“ This is a restful sort of place,” said Laura. “ 1 am sure 
it will do you good.” 

“ Yes, I think I shall grow stronger here. And it will do 
Sarah good, too. The poor child is overworked, and needs a 
change. I must see about bathing. We must all take baths.” 

“ But you know there is no beach. How different it all is 
from our ideas of it.” 

“ Of course it is. Who ever imagined a place as it really 
looks ? That shows the folly of going into long descriptions 
in books of travel. But if there is no shallow spot where we 
can go in bathing, we must have sea-water brought up to the 
house. Sarah, especially, would be benefited by such a tonic.” 

“ I hope Lilian will be contented here, but I very much 
doubt it,” said Laura. 

“ She can go away, then, if she doesn’t like it,” replied Mrs. 
Preble, in a tone of annoyance. “ We didn’t ask her to come, 
and I was sorry she decided to join us, after you had told her 
what a quiet place we were going to. I wouldn’t have allowed it, 
only I can’t help feeling sorry for her, she is under such worldly 
influences. And I thought perhaps a summer here might 
give her the right start and cure her of some of her notions. 
But if she is going to be as cross and contrary, now she is here, 
as she was on the way, I shall just pack her off to her mother. 
I must have quiet, and it makes me as nervous as a witch to 
have a dissatisfied person around. How she acted about 
going over to that ship ! If you were to carry on in that way 
for a single day, I declare, old as you are, I would give you a 
good shaking.” 

Laura laughed. " Dear mother, you gave me my shakings 
long ago, and that is the reason I don’t behave so badly now. 
I suppose Lilian didn’t get enough of such discipline when she 
was a child.” 

“ No, she didn’t, that is true. And parents are usually to 
blame for such dispositions in their children. But she is old 
enough now — she is a whole year older than you are — to have 
some sense of her own.” 


THE FIRST MORNING IN CAS TINE. 


81 


“ She is a great deal more agreeable when there are gentle- 
men around,” said Laura, after a pause. “ I wouldn’t say 
that to anybody but you, for it doesn’t sound very well ; but 
it is the truth. She doesn’t seem to think it worth while to 
go out of her way to please women, and she isn’t really fond 
of any of her girl-friends. But when gentlemen are about she 
is bright and pleasant towards everybody. So we must hope 
that some very attractive young man may happen along before 
she becomes quite desperate.” 

“ Dear me ! I’m afraid there isn’t much chance of that 
here. And if somebody should come I suppose she would 
flirt so outrageously that I should have to be on the watch all 
the time, and that anxiety would be as bad as the other.” 

“ But you must not be anxious,” said Laura, earnestly. 
“ Lilian is twenty-three years old, and has been completely 
her own mistress at home for ever so long. And even if she 
were to be a little on her guard before you, out of respect for 
your opinion, you couldn’t hinder her making up for it all 
behind your back. But I don’t think we need to worry. In 
the first place, there is no young man here ; and in the second, 
we must believe that her attachment to Horace Grinnell would 
make her comparatively indifferent to all other meu.” 

“ I wish he would come here, then !” groaned Mrs. Preble. 
“ That would suit her exactly, and we should all have peace. 
He seems to be a fine fellow. At any rate, we know him 
well enough to trust him, and he is too much a man of the 
world to tempt her to act ridiculously before strangers. These 
little villages are awful places for gossip, and of course the 
summer visitors are fair game.” 

“ I should think he and everybody else would come here,” 
replied Laura. “ There cannot be a more beautiful spot. 
Just see how blue the water is ! and then those lazy white 
streaks in it. It really does remind me of La Tour, mother. 
Don’t you see ? Castine fronts the south, too, and the offing 
is just where Lake Leman widens at the turn towards Geneva. 
The Camden Hills are not unlike the Jura, and the distant 
Mount Desert range must do duty for the Savoy Alps. Our 
glorious Dent du Midi is represented by that great cone-shaped 
Blue Hill. There is some difference, to be sure, and yet Blue 
Hill is beautiful in its way : the haze which envelops it all 
the time makes it a very picturesque feature in the landscape. 
/ 


82 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL . 


Of course the scenery of Lake Leman is grander than this ; 
but this is lovely and lonely, and the islands make up for the 
mountains being farther off and not so high. I love the place 
already.” 

“ Dear child,” said her mother, fondly, “ I am so glad you 
are food of natural scenery. Such a taste is always able to 
confer pleasure, and afford consolation, too, when it is needed. 
Most persons do not care so much for nature until after so- 
ciety has disappointed them, and then, of course, there is al- 
ways more or less of melancholy feeling mingled with their 
delight. Young girls generally do not feel attached to the 
place they visit unless they are able to associate some heart- 
history, or at least some passing fancy, with its localities. I 
am sure, for instance, that Lilian will not see any beauty in 
this region unless or until her eyes are opened by some flirta- 
tion or love-affair.” 

“We will all go down to see the steamer come in this 
afternoon,” said Laura. “ That will please her, and perhaps 
it will bring a houseful of strangers.” 

“ I only wish the trunks could be taken up this morning 
while we are out,” said Mrs. Preble. “ I dread another scene 
with that great ark. I wish I had told her plainly before we 
started that she might take her choice between packing her 
things in one or two of our trunks or staying behind. You 
warned her about the baggage, so it would have been per- 
fectly fair. What times we have had already ! I rather en- 
joyed the difficulties, though ; for I have enough of the 
womanish 4 1 told you so ’ spirit to be glad to see her con- 
vinced of the justice of my objections. Only, she didn’t feel 
the mortification half so much as I did. She is a selfish little 
tyke, and I have an idea that she will give me trouble enough 
before I have done with her this summer. She is ready to 
fly at Sarah all the time, and Sarah likes to give her a thrust 
once in a while, so I presume they will be quarrelling day in 
and day out.” 

“ If you find that she annoys you, she must go back to her 
mother,” said Laura, who recognized the exceeding nervous- 
ness of weak health in these complaints. “ The principal 
reason for our coming here was that you might have quiet, 
and that you must have.” And she mentally resolved to give 
up her own private enjoyment in teasing her irritable cousin, 


A COUSINLr TALK . 


83 


and to prevent as far as possible any collision between her 
and Sarah. It would all go right if Horace Grinnell or some 
other fine gentleman would only make his appearance ; and 
not Mariana in her moated grange ever watched more eagerly 
for the tardy claimant of her empty heart than Laura now im- 
plored the coming steamer to bring the carpet knight who 
should restore their threatened peace. 


CHAPTER IX. 

A COUSINLY TALK. 

“ I suppose we ought to go back,” said Mrs. Preble, look- 
ing at her watch, after a few moments’ silence. “ It is past 
eleven, and probably Mrs. Turner will have dinner ready at 
some unearthly hour. I wish we could dine late and have 
only a lunch in the middle of the day.” 

“ I presume we shall get up such famous appetites in this 
fresh air that dinner will be very welcome at noon,” returned 
Laura. “ We shall soon become accustomed to the change,” 
she added, with a consciousness that her cue for the summer 
was to make everything and everybody appear in an agree- 
able light to her invalid mother. 

They found Sarah up and dressed, and sitting in the high 
arm-chair by the window. 

“ Confess that the belladonna cured you,” said Laura, 
smilingly. 

“ You may give the credit to whatever you like,” replied 
Sarah. “ So long as my head is better, I am satisfied. But 
it is not quite well yet. It feels hollow when I move it.” 

“ That is because your stomach is hollow,” said Mrs. 
Preble. “ Just think how little you ate yesterday, — and 
nothing at all to-day. A good dinner will set you up again.” 

“ You must hurry and get well,” said Laura. “ We are 
all going down to see the steamboat come in this afternoon.” 

“ She cannot go with us to-day,” answered Mrs. Preble. 
“ She must keep still until towards sundown, and then we 
will all take a walk.” 


84 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL. 


“ It is a real luxury to sit and hear you two discuss what I 
must and must not do !” exclaimed Sarah. “ I shall be com- 
pletely spoiled by the time my vacation is over.” 

“ Spoiling is good for some people,” was Laura’s reply, as 
she left the room to look for Lilian. 

She found her in the opposite chamber, looking out of the 
window, with her pile of letters open on the little table at 
her side. 

“ Isn’t it a beautiful view ?” cried Laura. 

“ I suppose so,” was the cautious reply. “ The place has 
capabilities, but they don’t seem to have been developed.” 

“ As how ?” asked Laura, in a sarcastic tone. 

“ Why, there ought to be pleasure-boats all over the bay, 
and yachts with flags flying, and a pavilion, and gardens on 
that lonesome-looking island over yonder.” 

“ Oh, Lilian ! don’t, pray, suggest such a thing ! The 
lonesome look of this coast is its greatest charm in my eyes. 
By the way, where is your grand hotel on the beach ? and did 
your band play at eleven o’clock ?” 

“ I know it !” groaned Lilian. “ It isn’t at all as I imag- 
ined it. I must say, the infancy of a new watering-place is 
not its most interesting stage of existence.” 

“ We will go down to the boat and see who comes,” said 
Laura. u The captain is going to send the trunks up this 
afternoon. What does your mother say ? Is she well ? 

“ Yes. She says she is a great deal better already, and she 
is having a grand time, according to her own account. I 
think she wants to get me down there, that’s all. She needn’t 
try to make me believe that it is lively at that stupid old Cove ! 
She goes off into raptures about a fine young gentleman who 
is stopping at the same house. He waits on her and escorts 
her about as though he were her son, and she says if I would 
give her such a son-in-law as that , she would be perfectly 
happy. She describes him as very handsome, too, and ele- 
gant, and all the rest. Now, I know Mother Thorne ! She 
is a soft-hearted thing, and if anybody is good to her, he or 
she is as beautiful as an angel. This man is probably some 
whining little red-headed Methodist minister. Mother was 
brought up among Methodists, and she has a leaning towards 
them to this day. He must have some spunk, however, for 
he is able to keep Florence in order. Mother says she does 


A COUSINLY TALK. 


85 


Dot act silly when she is with him, and he makes her wait on 
mother a great deal more than she is accustomed to do.” 

“ That is a good thing. But you don’t mean to say that 
Florence begins to act silly with gentlemen already ? Why, 
she is only twelve years old ! ” 

“ Never mind that. She is the most consummate little 
flirt you ever saw ! She can put on all the airs and graces 
of a belle, I assure you ; and the strangest thing about it is 
that she seems to get up a real fancy for people. Of course 
it doesn’t last ; but she goes through all the heart-quakings 
and doubts and suspicions and jealousies, just as one of us 
would.” 

“ It is dreadful !” exclaimed Laura. “ By the time she is 
grown up she won’t be capable of a good sound strong affec- 
tion for anybody. I don’t believe in allowing children to be 
in the drawing-room with visitors. It makes them altogether 
too precocious in the very things they ought to be most back- 
ward about. In our grandmothers’ days, when everybody 
was so strict and proper, I suppose our American way of 
having the children always around didn’t do them any harm. 
But now that young people are at once so conscious and so 
free in their manners towards each other, I should think a 
sharp*eyed little girl might see a good deal that would destroy 
her simplicity. 

“ I am glad my mother was so strict with me in such matters. 
Being an only daughter, I should have been a regular nui- 
sance if she had not watched me closely, for all the gentle- 
man relations and friends of the family were, of course, in- 
clined to pet me. But she never would allow me to sit on a 
gentleman’s lap, or hang around men in any way. She did 
not object to a good game of romps once in a while, but any- 
thing in the way of kissing or hugging she put a stop to 
immediately. I can see now why she was so careful, and I 
am thankful that I have a feeling of reserve towards men, in 
spite of all I see going on around me to make me feel and 
act differently.” 

11 Well, now, I think there is a great deal more innocence 
in not being so dreadfully afraid of men,” replied Lilian. 
“ Why shouldn’t we all be like brothers and sisters? — I mean, 
all the young people in any particular set.” 

“ That sounds very fine ; but you know as well as I do 
8 


86 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL . 


that there is no real brother-and-sister feeling about it. 
Brothers don’t hang over their sisters’ chairs in such senti- 
mental attitudes as young men are wont to assume nowadays, 
— in your parlor, for instance, — and sisters don’t feel their 
nerves thrill whenever they happen to touch their brothers’ 
fingers in flirting over a rosebud, or some such nonsense.” 

“Aha, miss!” cried Lilian, “then you own to such an 
emotion, do you?” 

“ I don’t flirt over rosebuds myself,” answered Laura, 
shortly. “But of course I know that such feelings exist. 
If I didn’t know it in any other way, I should learn the fact 
from novels. They are full, nowadays, of passionate descrip- 
tions. And I know, too, that the majority of young gentle- 
men and ladies are purposely keeping up a kind of faint stir 
of such emotions by their sentimental friendships and flirta- 
tions. It does seem as though all the former simplicity of 
American manners would soon die out. It is horrible ! It 
is indecent ! 

“ Oh, Lilian, you church girls wear white veils when you 
are confirmed, and black dresses in Lent ; but I don’t see that 
your religion prevents your seeking to arouse impure thoughts 
by lying in a young man’s arms in a waltz, and practising 
various little familiarities which keep the difference of sex be- 
fore you all the time.” 

“ Oh, my dear,” said Lilian, with a light laugh, “ waltzing 
isn’t so dreadful as you imagine. You soon become used to 
having a gentleman’s arm around you, and you don’t think 
anything about it. It’s a support, that’s all.” 

“ Nevertheless,” persisted Laura, “ such close contact with 
Tom, Dick, and Harry makes many girls over-bold at other 
times ; and in all cases it must blunt the sensitiveness and 
modesty which are the natural safeguards of a woman’s purity. 
And I think the effect cannot be otherwise than hurtful 
upon men. It cannot be agreeable for a young man to see 
the girl he loves whirling around in another man’s arms, and 
I should think it would loosen the tie between married cou- 
ples when both parties waltz habitually with anybody that 
comes along. It is evident that such emotions are sought 
after, because after a time the plain waltz is not enough, and 
still more familiar dances are invented. When I was in Lon- 
don there was an outrageous dance in fashion. They called 


A COUSINLY TALK. 


87 


it the 4 Liverpool lurch.’ An elegant name, to be sure ! The 
lady lay in the gentleman’s arms almost as though she were 
in a cradle, and they went round and round with a kind of 
rocking, waving motion, and the ladies’ thin dresses were tied 
back as tight as could be ; and then their low necks, and only 
a little strap over the shoulder !— it was disgusting ! And 
yet it was done in good society. I remember there was a cari- 
cature in Punch of that dance, and it was so true it seemed 
like a sketch of the very scene that shocked me.” 

44 Oh, I know the dance you mean. But what are you 
going to do about it ? The world is changing, and society is 
growing more free. Women are allowed more liberty now- 
adays, and they are beginning to understand themselves better, 
that is all.” 

44 Well, they needn’t let everybody know how much they 
understand about such things. No doubt a great deal of the 
present looseness of society is owing to the emancipation of 
women. But, Lilian, there is another side to that story, and 
women are not obliged to declare their liberty by trying to 
emulate man in vice.” 

“ Whew ! That is a pretty hard word for our little free- 
doms !” 

44 But those freedoms would lead to vice if you were not 
so well protected. And they certainly do taint the mind. 
How I wish we could all go back to the simplicity of the old 
days in this country !” 

“ Now, Laura, just look at any of the portraits of the beau- 
ties of those days. Could we beat them in low necks and 
narrow skirts, 1 should like to know?” 

“ That is true,” said Laura, frankly. 44 It does seem queer 
that they could dress in that way and still be modest. But 
they were. Perhaps it was because they always wore such 
dresses, every day and all day, instead of only in the evening 
at grand parties. Nowadays it is malice aforethought when 
a woman makes an anatomy of herself. I never shall forget 
what I heard Ella Gardner say one day. She was talking with 
Mrs. Markham, who really has some sense. They had both 
been to the same party the night before, and Mrs. Markham 
was remonstrating with Ella about the extremely low-necked 
dress she had worn. 4 You ought to know, Ella,’ said she, 
4 that you are exciting improper feelings in the young men 


83 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL. 


you dance with when you dress like that.’ And what do you 
suppose was Ella’s reply? ‘ Oh, la !’ said she, ‘ I know that 
as well as you do. Hike to see how it tortures them /’ ” 

“ Ella Gardner is a fool : that everybody knows,” remarked 
Lilian. 

“ I know she is a fool. She says right out what many 
other women keep to themselves. But she is a wealthy, fash- 
ionable girl, who is able to do a great deal of mischief. And 
she is a member of the Church , — the Church,” added Laura, 
significantly. 

“ All right,” said Lilian, cheerfully : “ that is what the 
Church is for, — to rebuke us when we do wrong, and to for- 
give us when we are penitent.” 

“ I prefer not to do wrong,” replied Laura. 

“ Now, don’t let us begin to quarrel about the Church, or 
we shall never get through,” said Lilian. “ How did we 
begin this talk? Oh, I know, — about Florence. Well, she’ll 
have to be sent to a convent-school. That’ll fix her !” 

“ You’re not in earnest?” exclaimed Laura. 

“ Indeed I am. That’s the best place to take the nonsense 
out of girls.” 

“ But where are all your Church schools ?” 

“ Oh, they’re very well in their way, but they are not 
secluded enough. And there is too much dress. And there 
are gentlemen teachers for the girls to flirt with. But when 
you are once in a convent there you are. You can’t get out, 
and your friends can’t see you very often, and you must dress 
plainly, and do just as you are told.” 

“ And spend half the time in saying prayers, and the other 
half in learning mere accomplishments,” supplemented Laura. 
u I think it takes all the independence out of girls to educate 
them in that way, and when they come out they either rush 
madly into all sorts of gayety, or else they don’t know how to 
get along in a world from which they have been so completely 
separated during their most susceptible years.” 


THE TRUNK AGAIN. 


89 


CHAPTER X. 

THE TRUNK AGAIN. 

Nobody would have thought that Laura and Lilian had 
been discussing subjects of so great interest and importance, 
when they entered the dining-room, at the summons of the 
dinuer-bell, a few minutes after the conversation recorded 
above. 

Mrs. Preble came down a little later, escorting Sarah, who 
still looked pale from her recent suffering, while her returning 
appetite seemed to promise that the hollow feeling in her head 
would soon be relieved by proxy. 

But, though after the repast she announced herself as 
cured, Mrs. Preble insisted upon her keeping quiet for a 
time. 

“ I will go down to the boat with the girls,” she said, “ and 
if I find there is no crowd and nothing out of the way in 
their being there, you can go by yourselves hereafter. It 
seems to me a queer amusement for young ladies, running 
down to the wharf to see a steamer come in ; but there is 
nothing else going on, apparently, and I suppose they will 
want to go. If you feel well enough, Sarah, you can sit at 
the window and watch the fun. Take the opera-glass, and 
you will be able to see all that happens. There ! I hear a 
whistle in the distance : we must hurry, girls !” 

They went quickly down the street, which seemed as 
empty as ever, although there was quite a crowd on the wharf 
when they got there. The captain of the packet saw them, 
and came to tell them that he would attend to the trunks as 
soon as the hurry was over, and then he went to the front of 
the wharf again, while our party stood in a group by them- 
selves, as far back as possible. 

“ I can see Sarah at the window !” cried Laura, taking out 
her handkerchief and waving it. 

“ Really, there are some very genteel-looking people here !” 
said Lilian, in a low tone. “ Do you see that young lady in 
the gray homespun ? She is really elegant. And there is a 

8 * 


90 


LAVRA , AN AMERICAN GIRL. 


handsome man with light hair, leaning against that post. He 
looks a little like George William Curtis. And do look at 
that pretty boy with long curls hanging down to his waist ! 
I wonder who they all are, and how they came to look so nice 
in such a place as this is !” 

“ Why shouldn’t they look nice?” returned Laura. “ You 
forget that Castine is not so very far from Boston, and no doubt 
many of the citizens are in the habit of going there. Ever 
since I went West and saw how much refinement there is in 
what we should call 4 back-woods’ places, I am not surprised 
at anything. People travel so much nowadays. And Ameri- 
cans are particularly quick at taking in new ideas. Besides, 
in these old towns there are families which have always lived* 
in good style. Maine is full of great square houses, built 
ages ago and furnished in the rich, old-fashioned way.” 

“ Here comes the boat !” exclaimed Mrs. Preble. “ And 
just see how many passengers ! If they all stop here, they 
will have hard work to find lodgings. But perhaps they have 
engaged rooms beforehand.” 

The steamer came close to the wharf, and then began the 
usual backing, and siding, and swashing of the wheel, and 
throwing of ropes. At last the precise spot for safety and 
convenience was reached, the gangway was let down, and the 
sailors stepped aside to allow the passengers to land. 

“ I hope that splendid-looking fellow with the light cloak 
thrown so carelessly over his shoulder is going to come 
ashore,” said Lilian. “ Wouldn’t he make a sensation, walk- 
ing about these empty streets ?” 

But hate had decreed that the young man’s vanity was not 
to be ministered unto in this wise. He remained standing 
in his graceful attitude, looking at the people on the shore^ 
and at Lilian most of all, as she fancied, while the sole addi- 
tion to the population descended the gangway in the shape of 
a stout woman with her hands and arms full of bandboxes, 
suggestive of the arrival of the summer fashion of bonnets in 
Castine. As soon as she was safe on the wharf, a crate of 
oranges was shoved down the gangway and a keg of paint 
rolled after it, and then the board was drawn back on deck, 
the gate was shut, the rope fell with a slap into the water, the 
wheel began its revolutions, and soon the boat turned, and the 
black swarm of travellers gradually disappeared from view. 


THE TRUNK AGAIN. 


91 


“ They are on their way to Mount Desert,” said Lilian, 
with a sigh, as she thought of the special attraction hidden for 
her behind the hills now lying like a cloud on the southern 
horizon. 

On the return of the party Lilian went straight to her 
room to indulge in “ a good cry,” that being a form of senti- 
ment much cultivated by the young ladies of her set when- 
ever the general emptiness of life or some particular disap- 
pointment weighed heavily upon their spirits. 

Mrs. Preble, finding Mrs. Turner at leisure, sat down with 
her in the dining-room to have a chat, and Laura opened the 
south door and started on a journey of discovery around the 
large, shady garden. 

“ I must compliment you on the dinner you gave us to- 
day,” began Mrs. Preble. “ The peas and asparagus were 
delicious ! My daughter and I never eat meat, but my nieces 
said that the mutton was as tender as possible.” 

“ Oh, you never eat meat!” responded Mrs. Turner. “ Then, 
of course, you will want plenty of brown bread and cracked 
wheat, and all the rest of the things that belong to a vege- 
tarian diet. That’s easy enough to get ; and we have good 
milk, too.” 

“ You have no idea how refreshing it is to hear you talk 
like that!” exclaimed Mrs. Preble. “ We were abroad sev- 
eral years, and whenever it was necessary to make arrange- 
ments about our food there was so much astonishment at the 
fact of our not eating meat, and such utter ignorance as to 
what we ought to have to take the place of it, that I was 
quite tired of explaining and suggesting. / 

“ And how do you manage about help ? Isn’t it difficult 
to find good servants in so small a town ?” 

“ That it is,” replied Mrs. Turner, emphatically. “ I’m 
often at my wits’ end to know how to get along. The farmers - 
are mostly so well off that their daughters don’t need to go 
out to work ; or, if they do, they go into factories, where they 
can make money faster and have more time to themselves. 
I’ve tried getting ’em from Boston ; but they won’t stay long, 
because they’re mostly Irish and Catholics, and there ain’t 
any church here. I don’t know what I should do if I hadn’t 
such a treasure in my cook, Mary. She’s Irish, too ; but 
I’ve had her ever since she was five years old, and it’s pretty 


92 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL . 


well trained out of her. I picked her up in Portland. Her 
father and mother died, and I happened to hear about the 
child being left alone. They were going to send her to the 
pool -house, but I took her home with me. I brought her 
up to work, because I’m a poor widow myself, and 1° expect 
she’ll have to fight her way through the world, too. But I 
sent her to school winters, and I don’t believe many Irish 
girls can read and write and cipher better than she can. She’s 
twenty-five years old now, and I can trust her with everything. 
She knows how to keep house as well as I do, and she’s as 
honest as the day. It is a great deal of trouble to bring up a 
child j but I’m having the comfort of her now. Of course 
there’s too much work for us when the house fills up ; but 
she don t take at all to the Irish help that come from Boston, 
and we are both glad when we can get along without ’em. 
She goes to meetin’ and seems to enjoy it, though she hain’t 
experienced religion yet. I suppose her folks were Catholics, 
but she don’t know nor care anything about that, and she has 
said a good many times that if the Catholic religion can’t 
make better Christians than the girls we get from Boston are, 
she don’t want to know any more about it.” 

“ 1 h ear a wagon,” said Mrs. Preble,— “ the only one I 
have heard since we came,” she added, laughing. “ I think 
it must be our trunks.” 

Laura, hearing the same noise, hurried in from the garden 
and met her mother in the hall. They stood together near 
the front door and watched the man as he let down the back 
of the wagon and drew out the smaller trunks. 

. “ He looks so strong, perhaps he won’t complain of the 
big one,” whispered Mrs. Preble. 

But this hope proved unfounded. The man, finding he 
could not stir the trunk from the end, climbed up into the 
wagon, and, by dint of pushing and pulling, at last got the 
huge box into position ; then, looking around and seeing Mrs. 
Turner at the dining-room window, he called out, — 

u ^ an ^ you send Mary out to help me with this thunderin’ 
old thing?” 

“No, indeed,” was Mrs. Turner’s quick reply. “You 
must hunt up another man. I can’t let Mary’s back be 
broken, just as the folks are beginning to come !” 

Mrs. Preble and Laura, suppressing a giggle, drew back 


THE TRUNK AGAIN. 


93 


out of sight and seated themselves on the stairs behind the 
half-opened door, laughing anew at every fresh outburst of 
the man as he struggled and tugged, and wondering at the 
richness of his vocabulary of expletives, which were suffi- 
ciently strong to relieve his exasperated feelings, while they 
were free alike from profanity and coarseness. 

At last down came the trunk with a heavy thump upon 
the gravelled street, and, by means of a rope passed through 
the handle, the man succeeded in dragging it to the door, the 
two ladies flying before him and watching his progress from 
over the railing above. 

Mrs. Turner came out. “ Can’t you carry it up-stairs ?” 
she inquired. 

“ I’ll be darned if I try 1” was the answer. “ I’ve got a 
back as well as Mary.” 

“ W§11, what in the world am I going to do about it? 
Here these city folks will think Castine’s a queer place if 
they can’t have their trunks taken to their rooms. And next 
thing we know there’ll be a letter in the Transcript , making 
fun of us, and then nobody’ll come 1” 

“ We’ve got just as good a right to make fun of them for 
bringing their houses along with ’em,” replied the man, giving 
the trunk a parting kick as he started to go. 

Mrs. Preble hastened to the stairs, taking the precaution 
to open and shut her door as she passed it, so as to give the 
impression below of her having just come out of her room. 

u Wait a moment,” she called out : “ I want to pay you. 
How much is it?” she asked, as she reached the lowest step 
and took her purse out of her pocket. 

“ Half a dollar, mum,” said the man. 

“ Well, I’m sure you ought to have double pay for that 
large trunk. It is the last time it will ever travel with me,” 
she added, with a smile, as she handed the man a dollar and 
went up-stairs. 

“ Ho you suppose she heard me makin’ a fuss about that 
trunk ?” said the man, in a low voice. 

“ No, indeed. She was in her chamber all the time. I 
heard her come out,” replied Mrs. Turner, to the great amuse- 
ment of Laura, who was still standing in the hall above, not 
daring to stir, for fear that her skirt might rustle or her boots 
creak. 


94 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL. 


“ Wal, I feel more reconciled, anyway!” said the man, as 
he mounted his wagon and drove slowly down the street. 

As soon as he was gone, Mrs. Preble returned to the lower 
hall. 

“ There is no need of trying to find anybody to take that 
dreadful thing up-stairs, Mrs. Turner,” she said, anticipating 
the landlady’s apologies and suggestions. “ That is too much 
to ask of mortal man. It belongs to my niece, and she brought 
it against my advice : so she must come down and unpack it 
herself, and when it is empty it will be easy enough to carry.” 

“ Well, I’m glad you’ve thought of that plan,” said Mrs. 
Turner, “ for I was in despair about getting it further, and 
the stage will be in pretty soon, and if it brings any passen- 
gers they’ll have to come in by that door.” 

“ I will send her down immediately,” said Mrs. Preble, as 
she went up-stairs. 

Lilian was lying on the bed, her swollen eyes and the tum- 
bled handkerchief in her hand declaring what had been her 
occupation during the hour she had passed alone. 

“ What is the matter ? Crying ? Have you heard' any 
bad news ? Is your mother worse ?” asked Mrs. Preble, in 
surprise. 

“ No. There is nothing the matter, only I have got 1 the 
blues,’ ” was- the reply, in a half-sullen, half-dignified tone. 

“ ‘ The blues’ !” repeated Mrs. Preble, drily. “ Oh, well, 
I know an excellent remedy for that malady. It is work. And, 
luckily, here is a nice job ready to your hand. Your trunk, 
after a great deal of trouble, has been landed in the lower hall, 
but it is too heavy to carry up-stairs, and so you will have to 
unpack it down there and bring the things up. We will 
help you.” 

Lilian sat up in astonishment. “ That is a great idea ! 
What do these people keep a hotel for, I should like to know, 
if they cannot take better care of their guests than that ?” 

“ Well, I have stated the facts. 4 I cannot go behind them 
now. Wash your eyes in cold w*ater as quickly as you can, 
and I will call Laura to help us.” 

“ Oh, aunt, I cannot go down there and lug all those 
things up here !” complained Lilian, falling back upon her 
pillow and beginning to cry and sob. 

u Now, Lilian, look here,” said her aunt, seriously. u Do 


THE TRUNK AGAIN . 


95 


you know what you are doing by cultivating this habit of 
crying on the slightest occasion ? It sounds very pretty, no 
doubt, for healthy girls to talk about having 4 the blues 
but it means nothing more nor less than laying the founda- 
tion for hysterics and ever so many other weaknesses and 
diseases to which women are especially liable. You will pay 
for it some day ! You ought to be thankful for all your 
blessings, instead of trying to nurse imaginary woes. I have 
not forgotten that I was once a young girl, and I know that 
youth has its trials ; but they are nothing compared with the 
cares and anxieties of later years, and they can be kept in the 
background by employing a little common sense and resolu- 
tion. I should like to catch Laura complaining of having 
4 the blues’ ! Or, rather, I should have liked to catch her a 
few years ago, when she was at the silliest age, for she is too 
old for such nonsense now. And you are a year older than 
she is, my dear.” 

She paused, but the motionless figure did not stir, and the 
tear-bedewed handkerchief still covered the averted face. 

44 If you are home-sick,” resumed Mrs. Preble, 44 and are 
not going to be contented here, perhaps it would be better for 
you to return to your mother at once, and in that case you 
need not unpack your trunk at all. We can go over to Bel- 
fast by the next boat, and I will see you safe on board the 
Boston steamer, and Bridget can meet you and go with you 
to the station.” 

A pleasing anticipation of relief came over the speaker’s 
mind as she developed this plan. But Lilian had no desire 
to adopt it. Among her letters was one from a girl-friend at 
Mount Desert, informing her that Horace Grinnell was about 
to start on a tour through the northern part of the State, to 
be gone several weeks. 44 Perhaps,” the young lady sug- 
gested, 44 he will visit Castine, either going or coming, and 
you may see him before we do.” And this intimation was 
sufficient to keep her stationary until further advices. 

She moved her head slightly, and took the handkerchief 
away from her eyes. 

44 No,” she said, in the thick, stifled tone of much weeping, 
44 1 don’t want to go to Gloucester. I prefer to stay here.” 

44 Then jump up, and don’t waste any more time. Mrs. 
Turner says the stage will be here soon, and she wants the 


96 


LAVRA , AN AMERICAN GIRL. 


trunk out of the way, so that passengers won’t tumble over it 
if they come.” 

“ Sure enough,” thought Lilian, “ there is the stage yet to 
come in ; and he may arrive this very day, and here I am with 
my eyes all red and my nose swollen !” 

She arose with alacrity, and began to bathe her face in an 
eager way that pleased her aunt, who left the room, saying 
to herself, “ Lilian isn’t so very unmanageable, after all. I 
could make something of her if I could have her all to my- 
self a year or two.” 

The hall was empty when Lilian descended with her keys, 
and she closed the front door, so that her tear-stained face 
would not be so distinctly visible when the others should 
come down. 

“ You stay there,” said Laura to her mother, as they reached 
the stairs. “ I will hand the things to you. You mustn’t run 
up and down so much.” 

So Lilian took out the dresses, all nicely done up in linen 
cases, and the caskets and boxes and bags which contained 
her smaller articles of finery, and Laura went back and forth 
between her cousin and her mother. Next came the books, 
and Mrs. Preble nearly lost patience as the immense German 
dictionary in two volumes was followed by a still larger 
photograph album in its substantial leather case, while the 
lower steps were soon covered with grammar, Grimm and 
Goethe, and a host of other exponents and exemplars of the 
language and literature of Germany. 

“ I declare, Lilian,” she cried over the balusters, “ any one 
would think you expected to stay here ten years ! What pos- 
sessed you to bring so many books ?” 

“ I shall want them all, at this rate,” replied Lilian. “ You 
must acknowledge that I have opportunity for study here.” 

“ And what is that ?” asked Mrs. Preble, as a long black 
box came into view. 

“ Only my chess-board and chess-men,” said Lilian, hastily. 

“ I want to know !” was the wondering reply. “ Pray, 
when do you expect to use those things? You know I do 
not play well, and Sarah doesn’t understand the game at all, 
and if there is anything in the world that Laura really hates, 
it is chess. She used to have to play it with her uncle 
Chauncey when she was a child, and he had a mathematical 


THE TRUNK AGAIN. 


97 


turn of mind and would wait about a quarter of an hour be- 
tween the moves, calculating possibilities and probabilities, 
while poor Laura was nearly flying out of her skin with im- 
patience to finish the game and get out of doors.” 

“ I thought perhaps it would be amusing once in a while, 
in bad weather or in the evening,” said Lilian, more meekly 
than was her wont. 

“ Well, let us hope you will be able to find a partner before 
the summer is aver,” said her aunt. u I will help out the 
game with the watering pot.” 

“ With the what?" asked Lilian, in surprise, as she let the 
black box slide carefully down to the floor. 

“ The watering-pot,” repeated her aunt. “ I saw a very 
funny play once at the theatre in Munich. A pair of lovers 
sitting in an arbor were playing chess and sentimentalizing 
over the game, as young gentlemen and young ladies are very 
apt to do, and the girl’s father, who had been watering plants 
in the garden, had seated himself not far from the couple and 
fallen asleep with the handle of the watering-pot in his hand. 
Whenever the love-making reached a crisis, and the youth 
was about to give the girl a kiss, down would go the watering- 
pot with a crash, the old man would wake up, and the young 
people would fly apart. But come, we mustn’t chatter like 
this, or we shall never finish unpacking !” 

“ Everything is out now, but the two boxes of china,” said 
Lilian, “ and they are so heavy I can’t lift them.” 

“ Boxes !” exclaimed Mrs. Preble. “ I thought you said 
only one box.” 

“ It amounts to the same thing,” said Lilian, placidly. “ It 
is all china. One box holds the breakfast-service, and the 
other has a lot of tablets and panels for furniture.” 

“ Just bring up the books, girls, a few at a time,” said 
Mrs. Preble, “and get the stairs cleared off, and I will ask 
Mrs. Turner to let Mary put the trunk and the heavy boxes 
out of the way until they can catch somebody to carry them 
up-stairs. Men seem to be a scarce article in this part of 
the world.” 

“ I’ll run down and see about it, mother,” said Laura, as 
she deposited the last volume on her cousin’s table. 

In a few minutes she came back. 

“ Mrs. Turner says it’s all right, and Mary will attend to 
e g 9 


98 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL. 


the trunk as soon as her hands are out of the flour. I pre- 
sume they will bring up the things themselves, one at a time. 
But Mrs. Turner wouldn’t like us to see her doing it: so let 
us go out walking now. It will be too late after tea, and I 
know Sarah must be tired of staying still by this time.” 

“ You’ve hit it there !” called out Sarah, in a cheerful voice. 
“ I’ll be ready as soon as you are.” 


CHAPTER XI. 

AN EVENING WALK. 

“Which way shall we go?” asked Mrs. Preble, as they 
descended the stairs and passed the obnoxious trunk, now 
shorn of its power to torture. 

“We’ve been down hill,” said Laura; “let’s go up hill 
now. We can’t lose ourselves in Main Street, and from the 
high ground we can see the general 4 lay of the land’ better than 
we could by following any of the side-streets.” 

They sauntered along, instinctively taking the middle of 
the hard, gravelly road, where they could walk four abreast, 
instead of following in Indian file the narrow, irregular path 
on one side of the street, or seeking the op'posite plank walk, 
wide enough for two. 

44 IIow I wish I knew the history of these old houses !” 
said Laura, with a sigh. 44 They were evidently built by 
rich people, — rich for so small a town, at least, — and there 
must have been young folks enough among them. And such 
near neighbors ! — one can easily imagine plenty of romances !” 

44 Probably the boys went away as soon as they were old 
enough, and the girls stayed at home and grew into old maids. 
That is the way the story usually runs in the old New Eng- 
land towns,” replied Mrs. Preble. 

44 At any rate, Castine’s pleasantest days are over,” con- 
tinued Laura. 44 It spoils a town to be turned into a summer 
resort. And then there is that dreadful school, — begging 
vour pardon, Sarah, — of course that brings a host of stran- 
gers here to stay all the year round, and the people have to 


AN EVENING WALK. 


99 


take boarders, instead of keeping their chambers clean and 
dark and full of old memories.” 

They passed a large meeting-house, standing by itself, with 
a green field behind it. 

“ This is probably their grandest edifice in that line,” said 
Lilian, scornfully. “ It is evident one needn’t look for a 
church in such a place.” ' > 

“ I presume they call this a church,” remarked Sarah, 
grimly. 

“ That doesn’t make it one,” retorted Lilian. 

Sarah’s face grew red, and she was apparently meditating 
an extinguisher for Lilian’s arrogance, but Laura gave her a 
warning glance, and she took the hint and said nothing, 
though she wondered at Laura’s sudden consideration for her 
cousin’s prejudices. 

“ I’ll be up on the top of the fort first !” cried Laura, as 
they turned into the grassy enclosure. She started on s run 
towards the nearest bastion. Lilian quickened her steps, 
though she did not run, and Laura good-naturedly waited for 
her at the first angle. They then walked together to the 
highest point, where they stood looking out beyond them, 
while the others advanced more slowly through the enclosed 
square. 

“ How their figures stand out against the sky !” said Mrs. 
Preble. “ It makes me wonder what their future destiny 
will be.” 

“ That is exactly what I was thinking of,” replied Sarah, 
in a sympathizing tone. “ It seems as though Laura must be 
going to have a reward some day for her sweet ways. As 
for Miss Lilian Thorne, she’s got a good deal to learn, in one 
way or another.” 

“ Give me your hand, mother,” said Laura, coming partly 
down the slope. “ You’ll find it rather steep climbing here. 
We think we can see Belfast,” she added, as they all stood 
in a group upon the bastion. “ You know it is only twelve 
miles across, and the atmosphere is wonderfully clear.” 

“ Yes, it must be Belfast,” replied her mother, as she ex- 
amined the distant mass of white houses with her opera- 
glass. 

They stood silent for several minutes, mentally absorbing 
each feature of the enchanting landscape spread before them. 


100 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL . 


The quiet village embowered in trees, the remote graveyard 
with its white head-stones gleaming out from a grove of 
pine and fir, the rounded shore and the broad shining bay, 
the varied outline of the opposite mainland, the massive cone 
of Blue Hill in the east, and the fainter forms of the Mount 
Desert range against the southern horizon, the meeting of sky 
and water in the wide offing, the exquisite blending of sub- 
stance and shadow in the mirrored islands opposite the town, 
— it was perfect. 

“ I declare, I could cry, it is so beautiful,” exclaimed 
Laura, “ if I hadn’t taken a solemn vow against shedding 
tears over scenery. I did get so tired of sentimental out- 
bursts when I was in Germany !” . 

“It is beautiful in its way,” said Lilian, “ but if I were 
going to cry about it, it would be because it is so lonesome. 
Such a dreary region I never saw in my life ! It is as still 
as death, in the first place, and then there is such a cold, 
hungry look about it! It seems as though nothing could 
‘grow out of the ground, and the trees are such miserable 
dwarfs of things, excepting those few elms in the village. 
Just look at these little scrubs, with their winter dresses on 
all summer ! Now, a pine or a fir in a warm climate is a re- 
lief; it looks cool and comfortable ; but here it makes my teeth 
chatter to see them. And they are not even grand of their 
kind.” 

“ We may thank the British for the scarcity of trees in 
this part of the country,” said Mrs. Preble. “ You know the 
captain told us that they burned the woods when they held 
the town. But to my mind all the features of this view are 
in admirable keeping. However, I can imagine that a young 
person with warm feelings might feel lonely here. The place 
is a kind of natural image of the Puritanism which character- 
izes its society, a little bare and cold perhaps, but clean and 
vigorous, with beauty lurking in all its hidden nooks. I was 
just thinking how glad I am that there are no convents upon 
those distant heights ! They add to the prospect in Italy ; 
but here it seems natural and proper that the hills should still 
be covered with the forest primeval.” 

“ I see a carriage coming along the road,” cried Lilian, 
who had turned to look at the view on the northern side. 

“ That must be the stage,” said L iui a. “ It has to go up 


AN EVENING WALK . 


101 


hill all the rest of the way : so we can meet it at the top of 
Main Street.” 

They all hurried down from the fort and across the field 
to the road, and saw the stage approaching slowly. As it 
turned the corner, somebody inside waved a handkerchief at 
the waiting group, and Lilian felt sure that Horace Grinnell 
was one of the passengers and that a season of romance was 
opening before her. 

“ They must have mistaken us for some of their friends,” 
said Mrs. Preble ; but Lilian scouted this natural explanation 
of the salute, and continued to walk with a spirited air in 
strong contrast to her former listless gait. 

“ You have no idea how pretty the garden of our hotel 
is,” said Laura. “ There is an arbor, with a table and seats, 
and a succession of broad terraces which have not yet lost 
their original form, though they have evidently not been at- 
tended to for a long time. The trees are large, and there are 
flowers growing about in the grass in every direction, — common 
flowers, of course, violets and pinks and yellow lilies. We 
can spend a good deal of our time there when we do not want ' 
to walk.” 

Lilian assented, and fell to imagining delightful interviews 
with Horace Grinnell in the arbor, acknowledging to herself 
that, after all, Castine was not so bad a place for a love-affair, 
with its silence and its beautiful scenery, to say nothing of 
the utter absence of tormenting rivals for the attentions of the 
fickle youth in question. 

The stage was standing before the post-office as they came 
down the street. The passengers had disappeared, and the 
leather covering had been removed from the back, disclosing 
an array of goods-boxes, instead of the piled-up trunks which 
Lilian had fancied she saw there. 

Still, Horace would be likely to travel with only a small 
portmanteau, and she fully expected to see it standing in the 
hall as she entered the door. But the house was as empty as 
when they left it, and Mary came to announce supper with no 
trace of recent hurry in her cheerful manner. 

“ This sort of thing will kill me dead !” exclaimed Lilian, 
in the solitude of her chamber, after an aimless evening in the 
neglected garden. 

“ What do I care for their stupid walks and their stupider 

9 * 


102 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL. 


talks ?” she added, more fiercely, as she kicked her boots 
across the room. “ I wish the British had burned up the 
whole concern with the trees ! The idea of this Puritanical 
hole setting up for a watering-place ! And of course Laura 
and her mother must needs pitch upon it, as if there were 
no decent resorts to be found !” 


CHAPTER XII. 

SUNDAY IN CASTINE. 

“ Sweet day ! so cool, so calm, so bright, 

The bridal of the earth and sky,” 

murmured Laura to herself, as she sat alone in the arbor early 
the next morning, looking out upon the quiet bay. Presently 
Sarah joined her. 

“ I saw you from the window,” she said, “ and thought that 
I too should enjoy a mouthful of fresh air before breakfast.” 

“ I wonder what makes Sunday morning seem so fresh and 
peaceful, everywhere and always,” said Laura. “ Now, here 
it is apparently just as still all the week as it is to-day, and 
yet I -should kuow it to be Sunday merely by looking 
around.” 

“ This is the day the Lord has made ; 

He calls the hours his own,” 

repeated Sarah, reverentially. 

“ Ah, but you’ve made a mistake by one day,” said Laura, 
mischievously. “ If there was any make about it, it was 
Saturday and not Sunday that was ‘ made.’ The Jews and 
the Seventh-Day Baptists are ahead of you there.” 

“ But, Laura dear, surely you know why it was changed ?” 

“ Yes, I know why the Christian Church keeps Sunday 
instead of Saturday,” answered Laura, drily. “ But I know, 
too, that Sunday was first appointed by Constantine, aud he 
was a worshipper of the sun for forty years before he became 
a Christian. There is no command in the New Testament to 


SUNDAY IN CASTINE. 


103 


keep the first day of the week holy. For that matter, the 
Jewish Sabbath is only a modification of an Assyrian feast in 
honor of Saturn, because Saturn was the Most High planet 
with reference to the earth. The Assyrians were great 
astronomers, you know.” 

“ But perhaps the Assyrians took it from the Jews,” ob- 
jected Sarah. 

u No,” replied Laura, triumphantly, “ you don’t catch me 
there ! The Assyrian story is found in cuneiform inscrip- 
tions, and they are much older than any writings in the 
world. You can’t deny that !” 

“How do you get hold of those queer things you say every 
little while ?” asked Sarah. 

“ Oh, I pick them up in books. The books are easy enough 
to find, if you want such information. But you needn’t look 
for them in your Sunday-school libraries.” 

There was a long pause, and then Laura said, “ When I 
spoke of the pleasantness of Sunday, I meant only Sunday 
morning. For, of all doleful times, Sunday afternoon is the 
worst ! I have often wondered why it is so, and the only 
reason I can think of is that Sunday brings with it the idea 
of rest , and so the morning, which is the pleasantest part of 
any day, is peculiarly sweet and peaceful. By afternoon we 
begin to be tired of doing nothing, and of seeing nothing 
done.” 

“ By the way, Laura,” asked Sarah, suddenly, “ why did 
you look at me so when I was about to give Lilian a good hit 
yesterday for her impertinence? You generally like to see 
us by the ears.” 

“ Because mother is worried whenever Lilian gets into one 
of her tantrums, and it makes her nervous to have any sharp 
talk going on. She told me so yesterday when we were out 
walking alone together.” 

“ How thoughtless I have been I” exclaimed Sarah, in a 
sorrowful tone. “ After all her kindness to me, too ! Bring- 
ing me here just for me to torment her by my wilfulness !” 

“ Now, don’t overdo it, Sarah. That is a way of yours, to 
make yourself miserable for nothing. It is well you are not 
a Catholic, or you would be torturing yourself the whole time 
with peas in your shoes and a knotted scourge in your hand! 
You haven’t done anything, beyond giving Lilian a good 


104 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL. 


answer once in a while; and mother never thought of com- 
plaining of you. She spoke of Lilian’s uncomfortable ways 
on the journey, and said she couldn’t bear to see her so dis- 
contented. The only mention she made of you was to say 
that, as you and Lilian did not sympathize much, she pre- 
sumed you would be aggravating each other all the time — or 
something like that.” 

“ Well, she’ll never hear another word from me in that 
line,” said Sarah, firmly. “I ought to have been more 
watchful and guarded. And I’m very glad you have warned 
me, Laura.” 

u I need the warning quite as much as you do,” replied 
Laura. “ But I thought I would speak to you instead of to 
Lilian, because you would know how to take it better and 
would be sure not to let mother know that we had talked 
about it.” 

' < “ Of course not,” said Sarah. 

“ Lilian will need a 4 taking down’ once in a while,” laughed 
Laura, “ and we can both pay her off in a lump when we three 
are alone together. It is only when mother is present that we 
must keep the peace.” 

Meantime, the subject of this conversation was lying in 
bed with wide-open eyes, meditating on things in general as 
they appeared from her own point of observation. She felt 
a twinge of remorse on account of her bad temper of the 
night before, which had interfered sadly with her devotions. 

“ But it was enough to provoke a saint !” was her consola- 
tion, forgetting that it is the refusing to be provoked which 
turns an ordinary mortal into a saint. 

She deplored the loss of the daily service which seemed to 
make all the rest of the day go right ; she missed the talks 
about church matters, the pleasant variety of church work, 
the consciousness of usefulness, combined with agreeable ex- 
citement, which render the affairs of a city parish so inter- 
esting to the lady members. 

It seemed strange and forlorn to be outside of that compli- 
cated ecclesiastical system whose power she was convinced 
must be extended over the whole world before humanity 
could become what it ought to be. 

As she lay thinking, her glance wandered idly around the 
room, and rested at last upon the much-abused trunk, which 


SUNDAY IN CAS TINE. 


105 


now stood in the recess of a darkened window. A bright 
idea struck her. “ If I cannot have ray church,” she said to 
herself, “ at least I can have a little oratory to say ray prayers 
in. The closet will be just the thing : 1 enter into thy closet’ 
— I am sure there is good Scripture for that , if anybody 
should object to the shrine.” 

Animated by this project, she sprang out of bed and began 
to dress. But she had wasted too much time already. The 
breakfast-bell rang before she had finished combing her hair, 
and Mrs. Preble’s tap on the door, as she passed, warned her 
not to attempt anything beyond her toilet, until a more 
convenient season. “ It is better to wait until Mary has put 
the room in order,” she said, as she went down to join the 
others. 

“ How late you are !” said her aunt, in mild reproof, as 
she seated herself at the table. “ And breakfast was behind 
an hour. I suppose it is the custom here, as it is almost 
everywhere, to sleep late on Sunday morning. It is a queer 
custom, though, for people who profess to consider the day 
holy.” 

“ We never get up early at home,” said Lilian, sullenly. 

“ Then, if I were you, I would begin here,” replied Mrs. 
Preble. u It would be better fur your health, and you know 
your pleasures must be chiefly in the daytime in such a place 
as this.” 

“ If you ladies would like to go to meeting,” said Mrs. 
Turner, coming in from the kitchen, u I should be pleased to 
show you the way. It begins at half-past ten, and I go a 
few minutes before.” 

“ Thank you, Mrs. Turner; we will see about it and let you 
know,” replied Mrs. Preble. 

“ Who wants to go ?” asked Laura, as soon as the door 
closed. u Mamma, you don’t, do you?” 

“ No, I’d better keep quiet at home. But Sarah will go, 
of course. Won’t you?” 

“ Yes, I should like it very much,” answered Sarah. “And 
I think I’d bett£r*get ready,” she added, rising hastily. 

“ I’ll go with you,” said Laura. “ I know you don’t want 
to parade into a strange meeting-house alone. Will you go, 
Lilian ?” she asked, as soon as her mother and Sarah were 
out of hearing. 


106 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL . 


“ No, thank you,” answered Lilian, loftily. 

“ Oh, come on ! Don't stay here moping ! Why shouldn’t 
you go ?” 

“ Because I don’t want to.” 

“ But you will want to, after you get started.” 

“ No, I shan’t. I couldn’t worship in such a place.” 

u Well, come and look at the people, then. Sunday is 
probably the only day when you will see them in force.” 

u I wouldn’t be guilty of going to any religious service 
from such a motive !” 

“ Oh, pooh! don’t you tell me! Why do all your church 
people dress up so to go to church, if it isn’t to see and be 
seen ? And I remember very well what a fuss you made 
because the folds on your gray cape were stitched a little 
crooked. You said that Miss Prevost, who sits just behind 
you, would see it in a minute. And that was your dress for 
Lent, too !” 

“ Well, of course, people’s eyes can’t be shut in church 
any more than in other places.” 

u Exactly. Come along, then. I presume you’ll see ever 
so many nice-looking people to-day.” 

u No, I shall not go, Laura. I couldn’t appear to assent 
to their services, and I wouldn’t go unless I could take part in 
them.” 

“ Why, there is nothing to do but look on a hymn-book 
when they sing, and put your head down when they pray, 
and look at the minister once in a while during the sermon, — 
little decent observances that any one can conform to without 
compromising principles.” 

“ I think differently.” 

“ Well, if you won’t go, you won’t. I can’t stay any 
longer to urge you.” 

The banging of the front door sounded through the empty 
house like a cannon fired to announce the starting of the go- 
to-meeting party. 

However, it did not disturb Mrs. Preble at her writing- 
desk with the daily post-card in process of composition, nor 
Lilian, locked into her chamber, where she was already plan- 
ning the transformation of the trunk into a shrine. There 
was a good deal of artistic ingenuity running to waste in this 
young lady’s mind, or, at least, finding expression only in fre- 


SUNDAY IN CASTINE. 


107 


quent deft and effective touches to the multitudinous compo- 
nents of her elaborate wardrobe, and in occasional happy 
attempts at her recently- acquired accomplishment of porce- 
lain-painting. And now religious fervor assisted natural 
skill in making the most out of scanty and heterogeueous 
materials. After much adroit shoving and pushing, the 
heavy trunk was got into the right position in the closet, 
standing on end upon a low platform which extended around 
two sides of the wall. Fortunately, the shelves were at the 
ends of the closet, so there was nothing to hinder the concern 
from approaching as nearly to the look of an altar as circum- 
stances would allow. 

A soft, many-colored cashmere wrapper, spread over the 
tall box and arranged in ample folds down the front, took 
away at once all resemblance to the original design of the 
concealed frame-work. The waist and sleeves of the wrapper 
were unceremoniously pushed into the narrow space between 
the trunk and the wall, and the heavy cord and tassels were 
brought around to the front and tied loosely across the folds. 
A pale blue silk shawl with a white lace scarf above it formed 
an appropriate covering for the top, and a blue gauze veil, 
hung over some convenient tacks, corrected the bare appear- 
ance of the wall behind. A footstool, belonging to the arm- 
chair, was just the thing to kneel upon, and now there re- 
mained only the ornaments of the altar to be provided for. 
And these were ready and waiting in one of Lilian’s numer- 
ous boxes of finery. For there were two things that always 
accompanied her on her travels. One was an old crucifix 
which an uncle of hers had found in South America and 
bought at a price far less than its antiquity and workmanship 
deserved. The cross was of dark polished wood, extremely 
fine of fibre and as smooth as ivory, the figure of solid gold, 
carved with considerable skill, though the lines were some- 
what obscured by the rust and tarnish of centuries of expo- 
sure. The forehead and knees, perhaps from much kissing 
by lips gone to dust ages ago, more likely from their being 
the portions most frequently subjected to rude contact with 
inanimate surfaces, alone gave evidence of the quality of the 
metal, and it was u pure gold, even as the gold of Opliir.” 

“ I wouldn’t have it cleaned for anything,” Lilian always 
said when she exhibited the relic. “ It wouldn’t look so old, 


108 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL . 


and it would be sure to be stolen. The servants think it is 
only brass, now.” 

So the crucifix was hung above the altar, Lilian gladlv 
pushing a hole through her new gauze veil to reach the tack 
which was to hold this precious burden. It was a crucifix 
that any altar might be proud to own, and its dark outline 
and gleaming points looked very rich against the filmy blue 
background. 

The second treasure was a small Madonna and Child of the 
Byzantine type, — the woman big-eyed, sharp-chinned, long-fig- 
ured, peaked-elbowed, attired in a brocade crusted over with 
jewels, — the child in a dress apparently made out of a piece 
left of the mother’s, and with an abundance of halo to atone 
for the absence of other jewelry. 

Besides these constant companions of her wanderings, Lilian 
had supplied herself with a lew other tokens of the ancient 
faith, to give aid and comfort during her sojourn in the wil- 
derness of Puritanism, and these were hastily drawn out 
from their safe repose amidst laces and embroideries and 
transferred to the table of her improvised shrine. 

Two of Fra Angelico’s trumpeting angels stood at the oppo- 
site sides, and in the middle the elaborate arches and pinna- 
cles of a tiny triptych, containing the Holy Family for its 
centre-piece and the Crucifixion and Resurrection upon its 
doors, gave the true ecclesiastical tone to the tout ensemble . 

“ Now I shall feel like myself again !” murmured Lilian, 
as she laid her prayer-book and Vade-Mecum in front of the 
triptych and stood off' at a little distance to study the effect. 

A Catholic born and bred would have been likely to kneel 
down at once,and whisper a few prayers, by way of introduction 
to this spiritual hiding-place, but Lilian felt no promptings of 
the kind. She needed a church and an altar, and above all a 
priest at the altar, before she could be wrought up to her full 
pitch of religious enthusiasm. Still, she believed that this 
little shrine would help to keep her mind in a proper frame 
at her morning and evening devotions, while it was at the same 
time a standing tribute of respect for “ the Verities” amidst 
a people who had not even a glimmering of the True Faith. 
Not that she had the slightest intention of bearing her testi- 
mony in public. On the contrary, she meant to keep the 
furniture of her closet a profound secret, having a wholesome 


MEETING-HOUSE AND GRAVEYARD. 109 


fear not only of her cousin’s satire, but of her aunt’s more 
serious and authoritative expostulations. 

So, the work done, she locked the closet door and hastened 
to Mrs. Preble’s room, to prevent a possible visit of discovery 
to her own. 


CHAPTER XIII. 

MEETING-HOUSE AND GRAVEYARD. 

It is astonishing how short a time the hour and a half or 
two hours of public service always appear to the people who 
stay at home. 

Lilian had scarcely seated herself on the sofa for a chat with 
her aunt, when the front door banged again and the footsteps 
of the girls were heard on the stairs. 

“ Mercy ! I didn’t suppose the sermon had more than 
begun !” cried Mrs. Preble. 

The door opened. Laura rushed in, and, throwing herself 
into the nearest chair, began to laugh heartily, while Sarah, 
following more quietly, appeared to understand and in a good 
degree to sympathize with her unbounded mirth. 

“ Well, that is a fine mood to come home from church in !” 
said Lilian, scornfully, while Mrs. Preble exclaimed, — 

“What is the matter, Laura? Your face is as red as fire, 
and your eyes look so small ! — What has happened, Sarah ?” 

“ Oh, just wait a minute, and I’ll tell you. — :Sarah, let me 
tell !” gasped Laura, bursting out into another peal. Sarah 
looked full of fun, but said not a word, and turned into her 
bedroom to take otf her things. 

“ I suppose I look so because I was just bursting all meet- 
ing-time,” stammered Laura, her voice wearing off into a gig- 
gle which was almost a scream. 

“ Well, keep still until you are out of it,” said her mother, 
going to her medicine-case and pouring a drop from one of 
the tiny vials into a teaspoonful of water. 

“ Now don’t laugh till you get it down,” she said, “ or you'll 
choke.” 


10 


110 


LAVRA , AN AMERICAN GIRL 


“ Is that the remedy for ‘ religious insanity’ ? ” asked Laura, 
as her mother approached with the spoon. 

“ Don’t begin to joke, or you’ll never stop laughing,” was 
the reply. 

“ There you’re wrong, mother,” said Laura, in her natural 
tone. “ Suffering as much as I do from a propensity to laugh 
at the wrong time, I’ve made a study of the matter, and I’ve 
discovered that as soon as I can think of something funny be- 
sides the thing that made me laugh, I can stop. One kills the 
other, you see. Now I am in my right mind again, and I’ll 
explain my strange conduct. As you’ll want to know all our 
experience, I’ll begin at the beginning. 

“ In the first place, the church was as full as it could hold, — 
a proof that there are people enough in Castine, although we 
don’t see them on the streets. It was an extra occasion, 
evidently, for besides the minister there were six other gentle- 
men on the platform, — three on each side, in chairs, and he 
in the middle on a sofa in front of the pulpit, with a table 
before him. The whole thing looked like a little parlor 
raised above the level of the pews. We had a grand place 
to see everything. The hotel pew is at the upper end of 'the 
church, and we faced the whole congregation. Your elegant 
lady in gray was there, Lilian, and the little boy with curls. 
I saw a number of interesting faces. One girl had such soft 
brown ringlets, and eyes that looked as though they could see 
visions ! And there was a pretty child among the singers in 
the gallery. He was dressed iu blue silk with lace ruffles, 
and he looked like a picture by Vandyke. L thought what 
good times he must be having ; for you know, mother, I used 
to be frantic to go into the choir with Miss Polly, when we 
were at Dempster.” 

“ But I don’t see anything laughable in all that,” re- 
marked Lilian, in surprise. 

“ Oh, all in good time,” replied Laura. “ I want to get 
sobered down before I come to that part, or I shall laugh so 
that you can’t understand what I say. We were in good 
season, and it was several minutes before the bell stopped 
tolling and the people were all in their seats. I think the 
minister was just about to begin the sermon when a little 
black-and-tan terrier came bounding up the aisle and sprang 
upon the platform, where he ran from one minister to 


MEETING-HO USE* AND GRA VEYARD. \ 1 1 


another, as though hunting for somebody. That was rather 
amusing ; but it wouldn’t have amounted to anything if the 
little creature had been let alone. The ministers all ignored 
his presence, and probably he would soon have lain down be- 
hind one of them, or gone away out of the meeting-house, 
if he had been left to himself. But he had scarcely made 
his appearance when a great, tall, red-headed youth rose up 
from one of the back pews and came stalking along the aisle 
to the platform, where he stood still and reached out his long 
arms to catch the dog. But you know what those black-and- 
tan terriers are, — as hard to catch as a flea, — and by the time 
the young man’s great hands came slap down under one chair 
the little fellow would be dancing about under another one. 
And so it went on. Sometimes he would come out into the 
vacant space in the middle, as though on purpose to taunt his 
pursuer, and when the youth would make a grand lunge at 
him he would caper off to the very remotest edge and look at 
us with his bright, black eyes, as much as to say, ‘ Don't I 
lead him a fine chase ?' I declare, I never did see anything 
so ridiculous ! The young man’s face grew as red as his hair, 
and he looked so angry and fierce at every failure ! How the 
congregation could keep so sober, I can’t imagine. Not one 
of those ministers moved a muscle ; and the people were al- 
most as dignified. I did see a white handkerchief flutter up 
now and then to wipe away a smile, but even the children 
kept from laughing outright.” 

“ And pray what did you do ?” asked Mrs. Preble. 

“ Oh, I dropped my veil at the beginning. That helped 
a good deal. I wouldn’t have missed the fun for anything. 
But after a while I couldn’t stand it any longer, so I put my 
head down until I missed the patter of the dog’s feet and 
heard him give a little yelp, and then I looked up in time to 
see the red-headed youth carrying him in triumph down the 
aisle. He came back in a moment and shut the door, and 
that was the end of it. But all through the service that 
scene would keep coming into my mind, so that I was in 
agony to get home and have a good scream. How in the 
world did you manage to behave so well, Sarah ?” 

“ I put my veil down, as you did, and when that didn’t 
answer I repeated some of my school examinations, and that 
was enough to sober anybody,” replied Sarah, demurely. 


112 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL. 


“ Well, it’s over !” said Laura, with a sigh of relief. “ But, 
if they are going to get up such a farce every Sunday by way 
of introduction to the serious business, they may just count 
me out. 

“ The sermon was a remarkable production,” she continued, 
after a pause, “ and the preacher was a most interesting- 
looking man, all intellect, with scarcely enough body to hold 
bis soul, — if the soul really is separate from the body. But 
what did you think of his leading idea, Sarah ? To me it 
was horrible ! Only think, mother ! he said that although 
great sinners can undoubtedly be saved, still their spirits must 
carry the scars of their evil deeds through all eternity, and 
their rejoicings in heaven will always have au undertone of 
sorrowful remembrance. Now, I think that is too bad !” 

“ Well, there is no use in fretting about it, child. He 
doesn’t know any more about it than you do.” 

“ That is true. But it does seem a refinement of cruelty 
to first tempt people to sin by telling them that they can be 
forgiven, and then to turn round upon them and say that 
they can never get rid of the sting and the staiu. I should 
like to know where the forgiveness is, in such a plan of sal- 
vation !” 

“ I never heard that idea suggested before,” remarked 
Sarah. “ At least, not so strongly as he put it.” 

“ I presume he has the dyspepsia, and so takes gloomy 
views of things,” suggested Mrs. Preble. 

“ You’d better call upon him with your medicine-case, 
mother,” laughed Laura, as she rose to take off her hat. 

“ What nonsense they all talk !” thought Lilian. “ That’s 
the beauty of 1 private judgment’ !” 

“ The siuging was very good,” resumed Laura, as she stood 
before the glass, arranging her hair. “ The services began 
with an anthem, — 

1 Oh that I had wings like a dove !' 

The soprano has a beautiful voice : indeed, the whole quartette 
was good. They sang three hymns, besides the anthem. By 
the way, Lilian, they all stand up during prayers. The older 
people shut their eyes, but the younger ones don’t, though 
some of them look down.” 

11 It is evident that you did neither,” said Lilian. 


MEETING-HOUSE AND GRAVEYARD . 


113 


“ No, but my veil was down, and I only glanced around 
once in a while, just to see how they did things. I behaved 
very well : didn’t I, Sarah ?” 

“ Yes, indeed. You have my leave to go every Sunday,’’ 
was the reply. 

“ That is sly iu you, Sarah,” answered Laura, with a nod 
and a smile. 

At dinner they were waited on by Mrs. Turner, with an 
ample black alpaca apron over her gray silk dress. 

“ I always let Mary go to Sunday-school,” she explained. 
“ It begins right after meeting. She belongs to Mr. Saun- 
ders’s class. He’s our minister.” 

“ Did Mr. Saunders preach this morning ?” asked Laura. 

“ Oh, la, no !” was the reply. “ That was Mr. Lane. He 
used to live here when he was a boy, but his folks moved to 
Portland years ago. He is very talented, and just as good as 
he can be ; but he’s ’most gone with consumption, and that’s 
what makes him so solemn in his preaching, I think. 

“ I suppose you didn’t hear about the dog?” she continued, in 
a lighter tone, as though glad to shake off the remembrance 
of the u solemn” sermon. 

“ No, I saw it,” replied Laura, beginning to laugh again. 

“ Oh, yes, that was ridiculous enough. But one of the 
neighbors told me just now that Sam Perkins threw the dog 
out of the door and broke its leg.” 

“ How shameful !” cried Laura. 

“ Yes. The man that owns him is as mad as he can be. 
He’s a stranger, come to town on business for a few days ; 
puts up at Hooper’s tavern. They’ve got the dog on a 
blanket in the barn, and his leg has been set and all bound up 
as nice as if he was a human. The man makes the greatest 
fuss over him. He says he has a good mind to give Sam 
Perkins a thrashing before he goes away ; wouldn’t hesitate 
a minute, if it would do the dog any good. I guess Sam will 
keep scarce for a while. I don’t see why he had to go snoopin’ 
round after that dog. He ain’t the sexton, and nobody 
asked him to help. Just as if a dog knew that a meetin’- 
house was holier than any other kind of a house !” 

“ Who is this Sam Perkins?” asked Laura. 

“ Oh, he’s Lawyer Perkins’s son. His father has just 
given him a farm ‘ off the Neck,’ and Sam’s dreadfully set 
h 10* 


114 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL. 


up about it. They say he’s going to marry Margy Bemis ; 
but I hope she won’t have him. She’s as pretty as a pink, 
and as good-natured as the day is long. / wouldn’t trust a 
man that can’t be decent to animals. It’s a sure sign.” 

“ What shall we do this afternoon ?” asked Laura, on the 
way up-stairs. 

“ I shall lie down awhile, as usual,” said Mrs. Preble ; 
“ and after I get up I shall go down into the garden. I 
walked rather too much yesterday.” 

“ I think I shall go to meeting,” said Sarah. u It begins at 
three. It is a real treat to go, now that I have no Monday 
school to worry about. Don’t you girls want to go too ?” 

“ Not I !” said Laura. u Sunday afternoon is always a 
doleful enough time, without being shut up in a meeting- 
house. I’m going to get what comfort I can, meandering out 
of doors. You’ll come too, won’t you, Lilian ?” 

“ Perhaps so. I’ll see by and by,” was Lilian’s indifferent 
reply. 

Three o’clock found Sarah in the hotel pew and Laura and 
Lilian strolling along a quiet street leading to the graveyard, 
which they had selected as the object of their walk. 

They had not spoken since parting from Sarah at the cor- 
ner, until Laura said, abruptly,— 

“ I hope she won’t.” 

“ Won’t what ?” 

“ Won’t marry him.” 

“ Who won’t marry whom ?” asked Lilian, eagerly, wonder- 
ing whether there could really be a man on earth who wanted 
to marry Sarah Davis. 

“ I was only thinking aloud. I meant I hoped Margy 
Bemis wouldn’t marry that horrid Sam Perkins.” 

“ Good gracious !” exclaimed Lilian. “ One would think 
you had known them both a thousand years ! What do you 
care whether she marries him or not ?” 

“ It isn’t any of my business, that is true. I suppose it is 
because I want him punished for being so cruel to that poor 
dog.” 

“ How you do brood and brood over every little thing !” 
cried Lilian, looking at her cousin in astonishment. “ You 
ought to be a novel-writer !” 

“ So many persons have said that to me, I begin to be* 


MEETING-HOUSE AND GRAVEYARD. 115 


lieve that I have a gift in that direction,” replied Laura, 
thoughtfully. 

Lilian’s face changed. She regretted her remark, for now 
Laura would be imagining herself possessed of extraordinary 
talent, and, what was worse, would very likely succeed in 
making other people think so too. “ Other people” meant 
the young men of their mutual acquaintance, and Lilian was 
always jealous in advance where they were concerned. She 
was pondering how to undo the mischief, when Laura, always 
sensitive to any variation in the social mercury in her vicinity, 
hastened to bring her cousin into good humor by a little in- 
nocent flattery. The day was so beautiful, and they were out 
for a long walk together : it would be too bad to have it all 
spoiled by Lilian’s coldness. 

“ I think I couldn’t do better than take you for my 
heroine,” she said. u You are handsome, and have tiny hands 
and feet, and can count your admirers by the score. Horace 
Grinnell must be the hero, of course. But you needn’t ex- 
pect any gushing love-scenes. I am going to set a good 
example in that respect to the sensational writers of our gen- 
eration. I declare, it makes me blush to read the novels now- 
adays, they are so full of minute analysis of feelings which 
were never meant to be talked about and of situations which 
ought not to be described. It is indecent, and it is unartistic, 
besides. We all know that in real life a love-scene becomes 
improper and ridiculous so soon as a third person appears ; 
and in a novel the reader is the third person, and the effect is 
the same. 

“ You’ll see what an interesting story I shall make of it. 
You shall be married with all the flourishes the Church can 
contrive, and go off to ‘ live happy forever afterwards’ at 
Horace’s villa. When I am a rich and famous old maid, 
you’ll be proud to have me come and visit you.” 

Lilian looked happy. She liked to hear Laura talk about 
being an old maid. It was the next best thing to hearing 
herself spoken of as the future bride of Horace Grinnell. 

So she linked her sjm in her cousin’s, and, after a short 
silence, said, coaxingly, — 

u Now tell me the truth, Laura : haven’t you ever been 
in love with anybody ?” 

“ No,” said Laura, stoutly. “ Not what I call being in 


116 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL. 


love. • I have admired the looks of some gentlemen and the 
ways of a good many ; but I have never yet seen the man 
for whose sake I would be willing to leave my father and 
mother and accept all the consequences of marriage.” 

“ Didn’t you admire that Englishman, Lord Harewood?” 

“ No, not particularly. He hesitated in his speech, like 
most Englishmen. I shouldn’t want to live with a man who 
couldn’t finish his sentences. I should be always trying to 
help him out ; and he wouldn’t like that, after a while. How 
often in England I felt tempted to quote those exceedingly 
applicable lines, — 

1 And when you stick on conversation’s burrs, 

Don’t strew the pathway with those dreadful urrs V" 

“ Where did you find that ?” 

“ Why, it is Dr. Holmes’s. Don’t you know ?” 

“ No, I don't know. Not living in Boston, I don’t feel 
obliged to have everything at my tongue’s end that Bos- 
tonians have written.” 

“ Oh, very well. If any of your New Yorkers have 
written anything more to the point on that subject, let’s 
have it.” 

“ But, Laura dear,” resumed Lilian, after a short pause, 
tc you’ll feel so lonely when the time comes! Don’t you 
think you’d better marry somebody, even if he shouldn’t be 
exactly what you want ?” 

“ No,” answered Laura, in a decided tone. “ I should be 
more lonesome than ever if I should be obliged to have a 
man around I couldn’t like. But perhaps the right one will 
come along by and by, — a real prince of a man, ever so much 
nicer than your Horace !” 

“ You always make sport of such things,” complained 
Lilian. “ I’m sure it’s bitter earnest when one’s heart is 
really engaged. And then the uncertainty ! Sometimes 
Horace acts in such a way that I really believe he loves me ; 
then perhaps the very next time I see him he is as practical 
and commonplace as you please; and, first thing I know, 
the whole town is ringing with his attentions to some other 
girl. He is as slippery as an eel. I don’t know what to 
make of him, I confess.” 

“ You make too much of him ; that’s the trouble. He is 


MEETING-HOUSE AND GRAVEYARD. 117 


spoiled by flattery. Just think how many girls, not only in 
New York, but everywhere he goes, are running after him ! 
It puts me out of all patience ! There must be ‘ the makin’s 
of’ a fine fellow in him, or he would be a perfect nuisance by 
this time. He doesn’t seem to me to be exactly a flirt,” 
added Laura, musingly, remembering the sensible letters he 
had written her and the earnest humility of his manner in 
making his offer, “ but it isn’t in human nature not to be a 
little frisky when a body is petted as he is. There is a good 
deal of the wild animal in men, notwithstanding all the civil- 
ization they have had. They like to hunt their prey, instead 
of having it stand tame before them all the time. It is a 
law of nature, I suppose, to value most what we work for.” 

“ Well, then, whoever gets Horace Grinnell will value him 
sufficiently,” replied Lilian, grimly. 

They walked for a few moments in silence along the silent 
street, and then Laura said, hesitatiugly, “ That is what I 
never could understand about you, Lilian.” 

“What?” asked Lilian, sharply. 

“ I mean your being so meek and mild towards gentlemen, 
especially towards Horace Grinnell. You have plenty of 
spirit in everything else. I should like to see one of us girls 
take any liberties with your rights ! People generally think 
you haughty on first acquaintance. Your eyes are so dark, 
and your upper lip is so short, you know, and you have a 
commanding way with you, even when you are full of fun. 
But, I don’t know how it is, when you have to deal with men 
you are like wax in their hands. You seem to be under a 
spell when you are carrying on one of your flirtations. It 
has often made me think of magnetism and clairvoyance, and 
all the rest of those strange influences, when I have seen you 
follow Horace with your eyes a«d obey his slightest nod or 
gesture, as though he were the sultan and you were his 
slave.” 

“ I do feel willing to obey him, I own,” said Lilian, while 
the color rose to her cheek and her eyes grew moist. “ The 
other affairs were soon over; there was nothing real in them. 
But I do love him, and if I only felt sure of his affection I 
should be perfectly happy. I could follow him to the world’s 
end and live in a hut in the desert and be perfectly con- 
tented !” 


118 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL. 


“ Now, that is all nonsense !” cried Laura. “ I don’t sup- 
pose you care for him because he is rich ; besides, you have 
money enough yourself; but I do think that what he has to 
offer with himself makes some difference in your feelings. 
You know if he were poor he wouldn’t be wearing that beau- 
tiful overcoat with sable collar and cuffs, and he wouldn’t 
have time to twist his moustache and arrange his hair in such 
a killing manner. Now, just imagine, Lilian : if he were 
obliged to take off his diamond ring and go to chopping wood 
for a living, do you think you would love him just the same?” 

“ Of course I should,” replied Lilian, confidently. 

“ Well, then, I suppose it is a case of true love. You 
certainly have always gone back to your fancy for him after 
being in raptures awhile over somebody else.” 

“ I shouldn’t have gone into raptures over anybody else if 
I had been sure of him.” 

“ Now take advice from me,” said Laura, seriously. “ Just 
give him a good letting alone, — this summer, at least. Don’t 
show him so plainly that you care for him. Don’t inquire 
about him when you write to the girls, — depend upon it, 
they always tell him, — and when you are with him again just 
be natural and friendly, and if he really prefers you he’ll 
soon come round.” 

“ You are talking nonsense !” exclaimed Lilian. “ While 
I am playing indifference, the other girls will be trying harder 
than ever, and some one of them will carry him off before 
my eyes. I know how that goes. It will turn out like 
Miss Cabot’s flounces.” 

“ What do you mean ?” 

“ I mean Mrs. John Severance. You met her at our house 
dressed in the latest fashion. Don’t you remember her gloves, 
buttoned clear up to her shoulders?” 

“ Yes, I know ; but what about her flounces ?” 

“ Well, when she was Miss Annie Cabot she was visiting 
Mrs. Ward at Yonkers one summer, and Mrs. Ward’s cousin, 
Isabel Fullebrowne, was there too. Mrs. Ward had invited 
Isabel on purpose to throw her and Mr. Severance together, 
because Isabel is so plain in her dress and so simple in her 
tastes, and Mr. Severance was always railing against fashion- 
able girls. Mr. Severance was very intimate with the Wards, 
and Mrs. Ward had often told him that she knew a young 


MEETING-HOUSE AND GRAVEYARD. 119 


lady who would suit him exactly. But Isabel didn’t know 
anything about the plan. Well, they met and were intro- 
duced, and seemed mutually pleased, when, as ill luck would 
have it, Miss Annie Cabot arrived unexpectedly, all furbelows 
and flounces. Flounces were the fashion then, and she wore 
more than anybody else ; she was all ruffles from top to toe. 
One could see at a glance that she must spend all her time 
thinking about her dress to keep it in any kind of order. 
Her hair, too, was gotten up in the most elaborate manner, 
and altogether poor Isabel Fullebrowne, with her smooth locks 
and plain skirts, was quite extinguished, though, so far as 
looks go, she is ten times handsomer than Annie Cabot. 
Now, one would suppose that Mr. Severance would have 
been agreeably struck by the contrast between the girls and 
would have gone straight to the right one. But he didn't . 
He was fascinated by Miss Cabot directly, and before her 
visit was over they were engaged. And the next winter they 
were married in grand style. And it was the flounces that 
did it. That is all the consistency we have to expect from 
men ! Aud it would turn out just so if I were to try to win 
Horace by playing indifference.” 

“ I don’t mean that you are to play indifference,” Laura 
hastened to explain. “ I mean you ought to be yourself, and 
act as you would if he were nothing to you, unless he gives 
you a right to show your sentiments. If you merely act a 
part, of course he will see through it.” 

“ Well, if I am to be myself I must show some interest 
when I feel it. And, you may say what you choose, men 
really prefer the women who are susceptible and whose will 
yields to theirs.” 

“ That is a dangerous theory, it seems to me,” said Laura, 
thoughtfully. “ And if you were once married I believe you 
would soon begin to assert your will, just as you do now at 
home and with me and with everybody you know well. 
Marriage cannot be so very different from every other state 
of life, otherwise people’s characters would be more changed 
by it than they are. And who knows whether Horace would 
not by and by return to his butterfly ways ? Habit is every- 
thing, you know.” 

“ I’ll risk it,” said Lilian, proudly. “ If I once get him, I 
can keep him.” 


120 


jlA UR A f AN AMERICAN GIRL . 


“ All, but you may not always be so handsome and so bril- 
liant as you are now,” replied her cousin. “ You may lose 
your health, or be so busy with the children that you cannot 
find time to be fascinating to him.” 

u I don’t think so far ahead as that,” answered Lilian, 
lightly. “ 1 First catch your hare,’ you know.” 

“ For my part,” continued Laura, “ I am determined not 
to depend upon any man for my happiness. I shall get what 
pleasure I can out of my life, and if love is to be the crown- 
ing bliss, so much the better. But I shall not waste my best 
years in hunting it up. It seems to me that you girls who 
are so anxious about your future do not half enjoy your girl- 
hood. But here we are at the graveyard ; and this is what 
it all comes to at last !” she added, as she stepped over the 
low stile and looked around upon the long rows of grassy 
mounds. 

“ I don’t see why they went and put the graveyard exactly 
where there is the best view in the whole town !” grumbled 
Lilian, as she leaned over the wall and looked out upon the 
bay. 

“ I was just thinking,” replied Laura, “ that it is a comfort 
to find a graveyard in a cheerful spot and yet far enough 
away to be harmless to living people. It does not seem 
necessary to preach cremation to the inhabitants of Castine. 
But it must be rather doleful to have the cemetery in sight 
all the time. Just imagine a mourner in any of those square 
houses over yonder getting up some moonlight night and see- 
ing these white gravestones standing up so like ghosts between 
the dark trees ! And I wonder,” she continued, “ why grave- 
yard grass is always so long and thin and so full of dry tops. 
Just look across that open level : it is like a brown haze, and 
yet this is only June ! And it is melancholy to see how some 
of the stones have sunk into the earth, and how others lean 
to one side. Altogether, death is a detestable thing !” 

u I don’t wonder you think so,” said Lilian, — “ you that 
have no hope beyond the grave.” 

“ Hope is exactly what I have,” returned Laura. “ I hope 
we shall live again ; but I don’t know anything about it, and 
neither do you.” 

“ 1 know that my Redeemer liveth /” said Lilian, sol- 
emnly. 


MEETING-HOUSE AND GRAVEYARD. 121 


u Job didn’t say that, and didn’t mean it, either,” retorted 
Laura. “ That is what makes me mad !” she exclaimed, with 
energy, stamping her foot upon the hard gravel path. “ Peo- 
ple go on saying the same thing over and over, after it has 
been proved all wrong. If you choose to believe the New 
Testament story of the Resurrection, you have a perfect right 
to do so ; but you have no right to drag up Job as a witness 
to the truth of immortality, when the best Hebrew scholars 
agree that the Christian translation of that passage is false.” 

“ I never heard that it was false,” said Lilian. 

“ Well, then, of course you are not to blame for continuing 
to use it ; but ever so many clergymen know it, and I blame 
them for not telling you. If the least little discovery is 
made that seems to support any Christian theory, it is trum- 
peted all over the land ; but if any important fact comes to 
light that contradicts an accepted belief, the clergy are as 
whisht as mice about it. I think it’s mean ! People ought 
to 1 face the music,’ always and everywhere.” 

“Well, don’t dance on the graves in your rage,” said 
Lilian, as Laura hurried on between two rows of mounds. 

“ No. That is true. We didn’t come here to discuss the- 
ology,” replied Laura, in her natural voice. “ I must say I 
rather like these old-fashioned rounded slabs with 4 Sacred to 
the memory at the top. Do you remember how ridiculous 
the tall monuments in the Dresden cemetery looked, covered 
with their water-proof cloaks to protect them from the winter 
storms ?” 

44 I see a man on the other side of the wall,” said Lilian, 
in a low voice ; 44 and he is climbing over,” she added, hur- 
riedly, pinching Laura’s arm. 

“ Let us go back as fast as we can,” answered Laura, 44 but 
don’t look around, and don’t run.” 

44 Oh, I shall run, I shall , and so must you !” cried Lilian, 
pushing her way through the overhanging shrubbery until she 
reached the main path, and then flying towards the stile as fast 
as her long, tight skirts would let her. 

Laura followed at a brisk walk, but with some attempt at 
careless ease in her movements. She was glad to see at the 
foot of the hill a house, which they had not noticed on their 
way up, and a woman sauntering in the front yard. Lilian was 
waiting for her near the gate, and they both turned around to 
f 11 


Ig2 LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL . 

look back at their supposed pursuer. Nobody was in sight, 
however. 

“ Why, how pale you are !” exclaimed Lilian, as her cousin 
sat down on a stone and leaued her head on her hand. “ I 
thought you were not a bit frightened?” 

“ Oh, I was,” gasped Laura, “ but I thought it would not 
do to let the man see it. Besides, I always feel worse after a 
thing is over and I have had time to think about it.” 

She remained quiet a few moments, and gradually her color 
returned. “ I suppose in this case we were frightened for 
nothing,” she resumed. “ Probably that man was somebody 
belonging to this farm, and he only climbed over the wall be- 
cause it was the nearest way out. But in these days of tramps 
a woman may be pardoned for being a little foolish under such 
circumstances. We must not go so far from home again with- 
out the others. Only don’t say anything about it to mother, or 
she will be worried every time we are out of her sight.” 


CHAPTER XIV. 

AN ARRIVAL. 

“ Laura, come here ! — quick !” cried Lilian from the upper 
front window of the hall, as she heard her cousin’s door open. 

“ What is it ?” asked Laura, flying down the gallery. 

“ It is a Man,” said Lilian, solemnly, pointing to some one 
passing below in the street. 

Laura looked out of the window. “ A Catholic priest !” 
she exclaimed. “ Do you call him a man ? I call him a ‘ con- 
necting link.’ What possesses him to come here, I wonder ? 
Surely there cannot be any Catholics in this little bit of an 
out-of-the-way village !” 

“ I suppose a Catholic priest may need sea-air and enjoy fine 
scenery as well as anybody else,” remarked Lilian, drily, as 
Laura turned away and descended the stairs to go to the post- 
oflice. 

She was unusually fortunate in her quest, and in reading to 


AN ARRIVAL . 123 

her mother the news from various quarters of their home-world 
she entirely forgot the recent apparition of a stranger. 

Not so Lilian. She had continued to watch the priest, and 
had seen him turn after passing the next corner, as though 
looking for some house in the neighborhood, which house, she 
reasoned, must surely be the hotel. Not wishing to be seen 
by him at the window, she had retreated to her chamber, and 
soon felt assured by unusual sounds in the vicinity that a new- 
comer had taken possession of the room next her own. 

It is a special providence !” she murmured. “ In this lone- 
some place I shall have a good chance to talk over our differ- 
ences of faith with him, and it is only fair to hear both sides.” 

When Mrs. Preble with Laura and Sarah entered the dining- 
room at dinner-time, they were surprised to find a guest at 
the table. Laura instantly recognized in him the stranger 
she had seen from the window, and she instinctively turned to 
glance at Lilian. But Lilian was not following them, and they 
waited and wondered long before she appeared. The priest 
had risen and bowed politely on their entrance, but had after- 
wards kept his eyes so persistently fastened on his plate that 
even Mrs. Preble’s hospitable instincts felt a chill, and so the 
dinner went on in silence, with the exception of an occasional 
remark in an undertone between Laura and Sarah, who sat be- 
side each other. 

At last the door opened, and Lilian entered, but so different 
a Lilian from the one who had shared the morning’s ramble 
that her relations could do nothing but look at her in aston- 
ishment. The elaborate walking-dress, all plaits and puffs 
and buttons, the fringed and tasselled dolman, the masses of 
braided hair, the pretty confusion of laces and jewelry, in which 
she had lately appeared, were all gone, and in their stead was 
a nun-like figure, draped in soft, clinging folds of black serge, 
with narrow bands of white linen at the throat and wrists, 
the hair rolled into a simple coil at the back of the head, and 
only a massive gold cross upon the breast by way of ornament. 

She glided forward to her seat, acknowledging the priest’s 
bow with a shy but reverential obeisance, and pausing at the 
back of her chair to make the sign of the cross before sitting 
down. The priest noticed this gesture with evident surprise, 
Mrs. Preble with ill-concealed anger, and Laura and Sarah 
with the keenest amusement, though not a word was said by 


124 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL. 


any one. Lilian, though conscious that the girls were laughing 
at her and that a lecture was in readiness from her aunt, pro- 
ceeded with the utmost calmness to eat her dinner. She knew 
that she had roused the curiosity of the priest, and that fact 
was a sufficient consolation under the persecution of her re- 
lations. So, without speaking, she attempted, by means of 
sundry glances and motions, to convey the impression that she 
was entirely out of her element in her present surroundings, — 
“ a snowy dove trooping with crows,” a saintly spirit dwelling 
with worldlings, among them but not of them, and suffering 
the mental agony of martyrdom, without the publicity and 
glory which are the compensations of that state. The question 
was whether the priest were acute enough to appreciate all the 
shades of expression in the countenance and attitudes of the 
little actress : at any rate, if the attempt did not succeed, the 
fault would lie with the obtuseness of the beholder and not 
with the skill of the manoeuvrer. 

“ She looked so bewitehingly pretty, I wanted to run around 
the table and kiss her !” exclaimed Laura, as she and her 
mother were talking it over in their room after dinner. 

U I didn’t,” returned Mrs. Preble, emphatically. “ I wanted 
to shake her ; and I’m going this minute to give her a talking- 
to. I only wish she were younger, for under ordinary circum- 
stances it would be none of my business what she might choose 
to wear. But I can’t stand this coquetting with Borne, and 
here, of all places in the world, where a Papist is no doubt a 
perfect bugbear !” 

Mrs. Preble’s gentle tap at the door was answered by a ready 
“ Come in” from Lilian, who had expected the visit and pre- 
pared her tactics in advance. 

“ I want to speak to you a moment,” began Mrs. Preble, as 
she took the offered chair. 

“ I want to speak to you /” How many a young and 
giddy spirit has quailed before this address from a severe 
parent or an offended teacher ! What swift remorse for the 
sweetness of stolen waters and the pleasantness of bread eaten 
in secret is usually awakened by that informal announcement 
of impending judgment ! 

But Lilian was undisturbed. She was not accustomed to 
be called to account by her natural guardians for her numer- 
ous sins against their mature sense of propriety, and she had 


AN ARRIVAL. 


125 


no idea of being dictated to by a more distant relation, one, 
too, so incapable of appreciating the merits of the case as her 
irreligious aunt. So she said, “ Well, what is it?” in so un- 
concerned a tone that Mrs. Preble found it a more difficult 
task than she had anticipated to open the attack. 

u I was so astonished at your appearance and conduct at 
dinner,” she began, almost timidly, “ that I thought I must 
come and ask you what it all meant. Pray, why did you 
change your dress and make yourself look so like a 
nun ?” 

“ Oh, this is a dress I often wear on Wednesdays and Fri- 
days. This is Wednesday, you know.” 

“ Yes, I know. But did you know that the priest was 
going to be at the table ?” 

“No,” said Lilian, innocently. “ How could I know?” 

“ And I thought I saw you cross yourself before you sat 
down,” persisted her aunt. 

“ I always cross myself before beginning to eat,” replied 
Lilian, solemnly. 

“ Always ? Pray, when did you begin that Popish custom ? 
You never used to do so when you stayed at our house so 
often before we went to Europe, and I have never in my life 
noticed you doing it until to-day. You certainly made more 
display than usual about it this noon.” 

Lilian looked embarrassed. “ I suppose it was natural 
to be more deliberate about it in the presence of a person 
accustomed to perform the same act of devotion,” she said, 
slowly. 

“ I don’t see what that has to do with the matter,” returned 
Mrs. Preble, shortly. “ On the contrary, I should think 
you would make more demonstration before people who don’t 
believe in such an act of devotion, as you call it. It might 
have an effect upon them : at any rate, you would show your 
own courage. 

“ Besides, this man is a Homan Catholic, and you are an 
Episcopalian. So you have really nothing in common ; and he 
will tell you so fast enough if you ask him. I warn you, 
Lilian, not to attempt any romance on a religious ground 
while you are here. You will get into a scrape, as sure 
as you do. The people in this village are as wide-awake 
as the people in New York, I haven’t a doubt, but they are 

11 * 


126 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL. 


not quite so well posted as regards the latest fashions in Church 
formalities, and they probably still retain something of the old 
Puritan dislike for anything like Popery. You will be the 
town’s talk if you persist in rigging yourself up in this way 
while that priest is here. I hope to mercy he will go aw^y by 
the next boat !” 

“ Why, auntie dear, you don’t really think that Catholic 
priests are all such bad men, do you ?” asked Lilian. 

“ I am not exactly a dunce, Lilian,” Mrs. Preble replied, 
severely, offended at her niece’s tone. “ I suppose Catholic 
priests are very much like other clergymen and other men. 
Some of them are good and some of them are bad. It de- 
pends entirely upon individuals whether the relation between 
priest and parishioner be kept pure. But in the present in- 
stance it is not any real harm that I apprehend. I am only 
afraid of your making yourself ridiculous. Catholic priests, 
unless they are very stupid, understand human nature ex- 
ceedingly well, especially feminine human nature, and this 
one will be likely to see through any little manoeuvres which 
you may try upon him for your own amusement. You are 
feeling so dull just now that you are ready to welcome any 
means of temporary excitement ; but I do beg of you to 
drop the role of nun, and dress and act as you are accustomed 
to do, while he is in the house.” 

She paused, and waited for Lilian’s reply. 

“I don’t want to change my dress again to-day,” she said, 
at last. “ It would look still more particular. But I won’t 
put it on again, if you are so much opposed to it.” 

“ Well, I suppose I must be content with that compromise,” 
said Mrs. Preble, rising to leave the room. 

Lilian sat still for a few moments, listening. She heard 
the door of the opposite room close after her aunt, and then 
came the rattling of the blinds as they were shut for the 
after-dinner nap in which Mrs. Preble and Laura habitually 
indulged. 

“ They are safe for the next hour,” murmured Lilian, “ and 
Sarah Davis is in her own room, I know. If they make such 
a fuss about this black serge, I shall have to quit wearing it, I 
suppose ; but at least I will try to have one talk with the 
priest while I am suitably dressed for such an interview.” 

She rose and went to her bureau, and, taking from one of 


AN ARRIVAL. 


127 


the drawers a black scarf of embroidered lace, threw it over 
her head and shoulders and stole noiselessly out of her cham- 
ber and down-stairs into the garden. 

During her aunt's visit she had noticed that some one was 
moving about in the shrubbery, and the faint odor of a cigar 
had once or twice mingled with the warm sea air which drew 
it through the open window. She knew that the priest had 
not come up to bis room, and the inference was that he was 
enjoying the beauties of nature and the soothing influences of 
tobacco in the arbor. 

So she sauntered down the grassy path, stooping now and 
then to examine a rose-bush or to pluck a violet, and drawing 
ever nearer to the sheltering spot where she believed the 
priest to be. Yes, he was there. As her light step sounded 
on the gravel before the entrance, he sprang up, threw his 
cigar into the bush behind him, and confronted her, with his 
hat in one hand, the other being hidden in the breast of his 
long, straight coat. 

“ Oh ! I beg pardon for disturbing you !” said Lilian, with 
a little start of well-affected surprise. “ But I am glad I 
came,” she added, hastily, fearing that the priest was medi- 
tating a retreat, “ for there is something I want to ask you 
about.'” 

She paused, not knowing how to introduce the subjects she 
expected to discuss. 

“ Are you a Catholic ?” asked the priest. 

“ Yes.” 

His eyes lighted up, and he was about to speak, but she 
hastened to explain. 

“ I am an Anglo-Catholic,” was her amendment. 

His eyes looked colder than ever, as he remarked, in a 
severe tone, — 

“ I know of but one Catholic Church and one kind of 
Catholic.” 

Lilian had expected a different reception, and for a moment 
did not know what to say. Before she had recovered from 
her embarrassment, Mary appeared before them, and, taking 
no notice of Lilian, cried, “ Your coffee is ready, Mr. Daly : 
will you have it in the dining-room or out here?” 

“ I will come in,” he answered ; and, with a grave bow to 
his unexpected visitor, he followed Mary into the house. 


128 


LAVRA , AN AMERICAN GIRL. 


11 He is a great deal handsomer than I thought he was,” 
said Lilian to herself, as she sat down on the bench to think 
over what had passed. “ And he would look still handsomer 
if he could only wear a loose robe and a broad-brimmed hat, 
as the priests do in Italy. I presume they will venture upon 
that fashion by and by, and then our priests will follow suit . 
1 know what I will do. I will write him a note. I can 
express myself better in that way than in conversation, and 
there is no use in trying to get a chance to talk to him alone. 
Perhaps I can write it before the others are up. At any 
rate, I must get back into the house before they open their 
blinds, or they will suspect something.” 

As Lilian passed the dining-room door, she heard Mary’s 
voice in the full tide of rapid narration. 

“ I presume he has been asking questions about us all,” was 
her conclusion, as she hurried up-stairs to write her note. 

She did not find it a very easy task. The reserved bearing 
of the priest had somewhat checked her eagerness to enter 
upon a discussion with him, and her entire ignorance of his 
character made it difficult to decide in what manner to address 
him. But it was too good a chance to let pass. It might 
lead to a long correspondence, perhaps to a romantic friend- 
ship, possibly to important results for the whole Christian 
world. Did not St. Catherine of Siena lead back Pope 
Gregory the Eleventh in triumph, after cardinals and bishops 
had urged in vain the return of the exile ? Was not St. 
Theresa as famous for her political influence as for her celes- 
tial visions ? And what if she should be the one appointed 
to the glorious work of healing the breach between the err- 
ing mother Church and her purified Anglican daughter ? The 
difference was now so slight, the one obstacle to union so 
evident a mistake ! 

So, taking a sheet of dove-colored paper, duly ornamented 
with monogram and crest, she began : 

t£ Reverend Father, — Excuse me for addressing you by 
letter; there really seems to be no other way of communi- 
cating with you upon the subject which I have most at heart, 
— I mean the success of the Catholic Church. For we Episco- 
palians are Catholics, although you of the Romish branch 
seem disposed to deny our right to the title. We believe in 


AN ARRIVAL. 


129 


the same great fundamental verities ; we (some of us, at least) 
understand and accept the true meaning of the Eucharist, and 
our priests have received ordination in an unbroken line from 
the times of the apostles. The only thing that prevents our 
return to the old unity is that dreadful Pope ! Surely, if 
you read without prejudice the record of St. Peter in the 
New Testament and the narratives of the efarliest fathers, you 
must confess that there is no foundation for the claims put 
forth by the Bishop of Rome. And you cannot expect that 
English and American Churchmen will ever consent to be 
under a power outside of their own government. You are 
young, and you seem earnest and devoted, — surely you might 
do much to bring about a better state of opinion in your 
Church. And how happy should I be if I could assist you 
in hastening the glorious union between all Catholics ! 

“ Yours, with filial respect and sisterly confidence, 

“ Lilian.” 

With the letter ready in her hand and her door ajar, Lilian 
sat in breathless silence listening for the next movements of 
the priest, and fearful all the time lest the sleepers in the 
opposite chamber should be stirring before he should finish his 
coffee and hi3 conversation down-stairs. Each moment seemed 
an hour, and she was almost in despair when she heard the 
blinds slammed back against the house, and Laura’s voice, 
now distinct, now faint, as she moved about the room. 

At last the dining-room door opened, and a firm step came 
slowly up the stairs. Lilian waited until she knew that the 
priest was about to turn down the passage, then gliding over 
her own threshold she slipped the letter into his hand, and, as 
though to prevent its rejection or any inquiries as to its con- 
tents, hastened across the hall and tapped lightly at her aunt’s 
door. The expected “ Come in” followed, and, turning the 
knob slowly, so as to give time for the priest to disappear, she 
presented herself to her newly-awakened relatives. 

“ What is the matter ?” cried Laura. “ Has anything hap- 
pened ?” 

u No ; what should happen in this dead-and-alive place?” 
replied Lilian. 

“ Your face is so pale, and your eyes glitter so, I thought 
something had frightened you,” answered Laura. 


130 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL. 


“ It would really be better for you, Lilian, to lie down after 
dinner every day,” said Mrs. Preble. “ You would feel re- 
freshed not only for the afternoon, but for the whole evening. 
And you would look fresher, too,” she added, instinctively 
choosing the strongest argument for the conviction and con- 
version of a young lady. 

“ Oh, I’m well enough and fresh enough,” said Lilian, 
hastily ; “ and if I should lie down after dinner I shouldn’t 
sleep a wink at night.” 

Lilian could not explain that it was the nervousness attend- 
ant upon her recent exploit which blanched her cheek and 
fired her eye, any more than she could excuse her languid 
interest in the cheerful conversation of her relatives by tell- 
ing them that her thoughts were busy at the other end of the 
house in trying to follow the effect and results of her letter. 

“ Now he is reading it; now he is thinking it over; now , 
perhaps , he is answering it” were the silent comments inter- 
spersed among her random replies. How would he manage to 
give her the answer? Should she go down to tea earlier than 
the others, or leave the table before them, or contrive to be 
alone in the garden, or hang around the front door ? 

Well, a Catholic priest might be trusted to manoeuvre when 
there was anything to be gained by it, and surely the possi- 
bility of influencing a wealthy American girl was worth some 
trouble. Besides, if he were not in reality so sincere and de- 
voted as she assumed him to be, he would probably not be ad- 
verse to a little romance in so dull a place as Castine, and if 
he should be tempted to break the spirit of his vows through 
her fascinations — well, it wouldn’t hurt him to take a lesson in 
sentiment. He would understand other men and women much 
better for having had a touch of experience in love-matters 
himself. 

Circumstances favored Lilian on this occasion. The others 
went out walking, with the intention of sauntering about the 
wharves until tea-time. 

Lilian did not care to go with them, and so was left to haunt 
the stairs and passages at her leisure. 

And her watchfulness soon met with its reward. Before 
Mary’s tramping gait and the attendant clatter of dishes in the 
dining-room had given warning of the speedy reunion of the 
family, a more welcome stir was heard above, and Lilian, stand- 


AN ARRIVAL . 


131 


ing in the front door, was ready to receive the narrow envelope 
which was handed her by the priest as he passed with averted 
eye and hasty bow into the street. 

She flew up the stairs and locked herself into her room, 
then, sinking down upon the first chair, examined with beating 
heart the secret treasure. It was a short letter, and ran as 
follows : 

“ Miss Lilian, — It needs but a hasty perusal of your note 
to convince me that you are entirely in error as to the causes 
and conditions of the separation between the Church and Prot- 
estantism, — which separation you seem to deplore. With 
your Protestant- Pagan education you could not be expected to 
enter understanding^ upon the discussion of this topic, and 
nothing that I could say within the compass of an ordinary 
letter would suffice for the removal of your mistaken opinions 
and unfounded prejudices. But there are books enough, if you 
sincerely desire enlightenment, and under proper circumstances 
any priest would be willing to give you desired information 
upon questions relating to a correct intellectual belief and a 
corresponding devotion of the soul to the truth. 

“ Respectfully, Thomas Daly.” 

“ My ! how wonderfully prim !” was Lilian’s comment, as 
she read these few severe sentences, written in a small, neat 
hand upon a large sheet of ordinary blue letter-paper. She 
had expected a different reply, — effuse encouragement of her 
leaning towards Catholicism, and something in the tone be- 
traying recognition of her claims as a woman, young and 
attractive. 

“ However,” she reflected, “ this is only the beginning, and 
he happens to be more cautious than most of them. An Ital- 
ian priest would have been as gracious as you please with only 
half a chance !” 

As she sat looking idly at the signature, she noticed that just 
after the name a faint cross had been traced with the writer’s 
pen. “ Aha !” she exclaimed, u I suppose that means he is a 
Jesuit. Then perhaps his stiffness is all put on. He probably 
thinks that if he plays indifference I shall be more likely to 
run after him. That is Laura’s theory in love-matters, and I 
don’t see why it shouldn’t work in religion. And he is right, 


132 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL. 


too,” she added, ingenuously. “ If he had begun to palaver right 
away I should have got tired of it, perhaps. Now we will see 
which will beat. If they want to get this child into the Cath- 
olic Church, they’ll have to work hard. And if this man puts 
on too many airs, I’ll make his heart ache a little bit before I 
am done with him.” 

As she folded up the letter after making this magnani- 
mous resolve, she saw with surprise that at the head of the sheet 
another cross was traced, and that the paper was blistered, as 
though a tear had fallen upon it. She examined it curiously. 
u It must be holy water,” she said, at last. u It isn’t likely 
that he had a tear ready to squeeze out. But why did he put 
it there ? And why did he draw that cross right over the 
Capitol stamp ? Does it mean that our government is going 
to be Catholic some day ? Or is it a sign that he offered a 
prayer for my conversion before beginning to write, or a 
prayer for himself to be kept from temptation ?” This last 
suggestion touched Lilian. “ Poor man ! he is in danger, if 
he only knew it. I must not let him like me too much. There 
is something besides water on that paper,” she exclaimed, ex- 
amining the stain more closely, “ it glistens so. I wonder if 
it is true that they put salt and the ground bones of saints 
into holy water? I should really like to know what he was 
thinking of when he made that cross.” 

After a few moments of silent musing, she took her scissors 
and cut carefully around the mysterious sign. Then search- 
ing among her ornaments she made choice of a richly-carved 
tortoise-shell medallion, and, opening the back, she placed the 
scrap of paper under the black silk lining of the glass and 
closed the locket again. 

“ If there is anything extra about it, it is worth keeping,” 
she murmured, as she put the medallion and the letter away 
and locked the drawer. 

“ What is become of our priest ?” asked Laura at supper, 
with a glance at the stranger’s empty chair. 

Nobody answered, and she continued, — 

“ Do, mother, for mercy’s sake, scrape up an acquaintance 
with him ! It is too awkward to sit here so long without a 
word being spoken. I shall get into one of my fits of gig- 
gling if we have another such silent time as we had at dinner 1” 

Perhaps it was in consequence of this threat that Mrs. Pre- 


SEPARATE INTERESTS. 


133 


ble, happening to find Father Daly alone in the dining-room 
before breakfast the next morning, entered into a conversation 
with him, which lasted until the three girls appeared, when, 
after politely greeting them, he went away, having already 
finished his breakfast. 

“ Well, I declare, Mrs. Preble !” began Laura, as soon as he 
was out of hearing, “ I think you are doing pretty well, — 
stealing down here to flirt with the priest before breakfast ! 
See if I don’t write to father this very day about it 1” 

“ Hush !” said her mother ; “ he may hear you. He is a 
very sensible man, girls, and very agreeable, too. I would 
much rather see a priest shy and reserved, as he is, than so very 
glib, as the French and Italian ones generally are. This one 
is an Irishman. I don’t know what he is here for, but he seems 
to appreciate the scenery. By the way, Mrs. Turner is going 
off, to be gone several days, — her sister in North Castine is 
very sick, — and so we are to be left to the tender mercies of 
Mary. But Mrs. Turner says that Mary does about all the 
cooking as it is, and knows how to manage just as well as when 
she is at home. Of course one person is enough to take care 
of us ; but I shouldn’t wonder if a whole steamboatful should 
come as soon as she is out of sight. That is always the way 1” 

“ It isn’t likely to be the way in Castine,” said Lilian. “ ‘ All 
signs fail in a dry time’ — or a dry place.” 


CHAPTER XY. 

SEPARATE INTERESTS. 

“ Aunt Lucy, haven’t you any sewing for me?” asked Sarah, 
coming out of her room soon after breakfast. “ I begin to 
feel the need of some regular employment. It doesn’t answer 
for me to do just as I like from morning till night.” 

“ But I thought you had work of your own, — writing of 
some kind or other, — that you like to be busy at alone in your 
room,” replied her aunt. 

“ Oh, that is nothing. I scribble a little once in a while, 
just by way of practice in composition,” said Sarah, with a 
12 


134 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL. 


blush. “ But I should enjoy sitting with you and sewing while 
you make tatting. I should have asked you before, but ever 
since I have been here my eyes have acted so strangely that 
I have not been able to depend upon them at all. Now they 
are all right again.” 

“ What has been the matter with them ?” 

“ I don’t know. Everything flashed and danced about, and 
generally I could see only half of an object at a time. I 
began to be afraid I was going to be blind.” 

“ You ought to have told me about it. You keep your 
troubles too much to yourself, my dear child. In this case I 
could have helped you at once, and relieved your mind be- 
sides. It was nothing in the world but the sudden effect of 
this very bracing air upon your nerves. A few drops out of* 
my little case would have cured you. However, it is just the 
same, as you say the difficulty is over. — How are you off for 
underclothing ?” she asked, after a pause. 

“ Oh, about as usual. I always keep as much as is neces- 
sary on hand, and Aunt Abby helps me sometimes in the 
vacation.” 

“ Well, now, I’ll tell you what we will do. If you really 
want a little sewing, we’ll go down to the store and buy some 
fine white shirting, and you can make it up at your leisure. 
I have quantities of embroidery and tatting for trimming, and 
luckily I brought several rolls with me. We will make up a 
few really handsome sets together. After all, it is more cosey 
to do things by hand than to have a sewing-machine around. 
Call out of the window to Laura, — she is in the garden, — 
and we will go down street and see what we can find.” 

“ Laura,” said Mrs. Preble, as soon as the door opened, 
u we are going down to the stores. Sarah has got an in- 
dustrious fit, and wants some sewing. I see through her, 
though,” — with an affectionate nod at Sarah : “ she thinks 
I am likely to stay at home a good deal when you girls are 
out walking, and so she wants a pretence for staying with me. 
But we will take care that she has exercise enough. Tell 
Lilian, so that we can start soon.” 

“ Great news ! Immense excitement !” cried Laura, rush- 
ing into Lilian’s room. “ Throw on your things. We are 
going down to the stores. You must hurry : we want to do 
our shopping early, before the crowd comes.” 


SEPARATE INTERESTS. 135 

“ What under the sun do you mean ?” asked Lilian, petu- 
lantly. 

“ Exactly what I say. We are going down street to do 
some shopping. Come on.” 

“ Thank you, I don’t want to go. And, by the way, Laura, 
I wish to say that I hope you won’t take it amiss if I stroll 
off by myself once in a while. Don’t you think it would be 
better for us, each and all, to feel free to go and come as we 
like ? I am not always in the mood to walk up to the fort 
to see the sun set, or down to the light-house to hear the 
waves, or over to the ballast-wharf to look at a lot of old 
stones ! And I have so much to think aboufjind to worry 
me that I need to be alone sometimes.” 

“ Why, certainly. Nobody wants to hinder your walking 
by yourself, if you prefer it, and nobody w r ants to force you 
to go with us when you would rather not,” replied Laura, 
rather astonished at Lilian’s proposition. “ But you know 
how frightened you were the first time we went to the grave- 
yard. What shall you do if you see a man getting over the 
wall when you are alone ?” 

“ Oh, I don’t mean to go far away. I only want to 1 mean- 
der,’ as you call it, when the fit takes me.” 

“ Very w T ell. But if I were you I wouldn’t waste my time 
having ‘ the blues.’ It doesn’t help the matter a bit ; and there 
is nothing so very desperate about your affairs, — nothing worse 
than uncertainty, which is the portion of every girl until her 
lot in life is decided. Many a married woman would be glad 
to be back where you are now. You’d better come with us,” 
added Laura, after a pause, fearing she had not shown suffi- 
cient sympathy with her cousin’s mood. “ It will be a change, 
at least, and likely as not we shall stumble into some good 
fun.” 

“ Thank you. You are welcome to all the fun you can 
find in a Castine store,” replied Lilian, scornfully ; and Laura, 
seeing that there was no use in urging her, returned to the 
other room, where her mother and Sarah were waiting, duly 
bonneted and gloved for the expedition. 

As soon as they were fairly out of the way, Lilian put on 
her things and started off in the opposite direction, never 
halting in her brisk walk until she had left the crooked shore 
road and turned into the narrow open path leading across the 


136 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL . 


meadows to the light-house. Here she paused, and, after 
looking about her in every direction, sat down upon a rock 
near the path, and, adjusting her opera-glass, began a delib- 
erate survey of the wide sloping common lying between the 
shore and the ruined fort, — though she gave no heed to the 
far more beautiful expanse formed by the bay and islands and 
the intricacies of the opposite shore. Apparently her survey 
did not satisfy her ; for she changed her position frequently 
and sought on every side for some slight elevation from 
which she could command a wider prospect. At last, after 
a prolonged observation of the distant fort, she murmured, 
“ There he is /” and, hastily shutting her glass, she started 
off across the field as fast as the irregular nature of the 
ground would allow, heeding neither the discomfort of her 
tightly-booted feet nor the injury done to her trailing gar- 
ments by the thorns and briers through which she was 
occasionally obliged to tear her way. It was an unusually 
long and tedious walk for the city girl, and by the time she 
had reached the enclosure of the fort she was glad to sit 
down on the first stone to rest. It was a lovely morning, and 
not a breath of wind disturbed the welcome warmth of the 
all-pervading sunshine. The air was full of fresh, sweet 
odors, and the bees hovered murmuring above the scanty 
blossoms of the white clover growing in little tufts amid the 
grass. 

But Lilian was unmindful of the soothing influences of.the 
time and the place, and as soon as her panting had subsided 
she rose from her uncomfortable seat and went to the top of 
the ruined earthwork, fully expecting to find there, or just 
below on the other side, the object of all this fatiguing search. 
In vain. Nobody was in sight, excepting two men unload- 
ing a boat on the shore of the back bay, and, though Lilian 
swept the whole wide field of vision with her powerful glass, 
not a trace was left of the man she had seen walking upon 
the northwest bastion only a few minutes before. There was 
nothing to do but go back and try another time. 

She was glad to be again in her cool chamber, where she 
made herself comfortable in the great arm-chair, with the 
priest’s letter before her by way of intellectual recreation. 

“ He might know I would want to talk with him about it,” 
she said to herself, as she read and re-read the severe sen- 


SEPARATE INTERESTS . 137 

tences. 11 1 Protestant- Pagan education :’ — what an opinion 
he must have of us !” was her audible comment. 

In a few minutes Laura came in, alert and cheerful, and 
evidently well pleased with the results of her first essay at 
shopping in Castine. 

“ You don’t know how much you lost P* she exclaimed. 
“ Of course the store itself was nothing, — a few flat-irons and 
a few packages of knives and forks hanging from the ceiling, 
a great pile of calicoes on the counter, and the usual country- 
store smell of coffee and bed-ticking mixed, you know. But 
on the tall desk in the corner was a lovely rose and a bunch 
of lily-of-the-valley in a glass of water, and as soon as the 
man made his appearance from the back room I saw that we 
had no ordinary person to deal with. Only think ! he and his 
wife go every summer away up into the Maine woods and 
wander about for weeks. He knows Moosehead Lake, and 
Mount Katahdin, and ever so many other places that people 
are only just beginning to wake up about. He talked so 
well, too ! He made it all seem so fresh and primitive that I 
felt as though we were in the midst of a worn-out civilization 
here in Castine and must run away from it all and go and 
live where there is nothing but moss and berries and pine- 
trees. 

“ His goods are not despisable, by any means,” continued 
Laura, perceiving that Lilian felt no interest in the store- 
keeper’s sylvan experiences. u He actually has Breton lace in 
the windows. What kind of a time have you had ? I hope 
you enjoyed your walk.” 

“ Oh, yes,” replied Lilian, in an indifferent tone : “ it was 
as good as anything, and I don’t feel so worried when I am 
tired out.” 

u Well,” returned Laura, “ I don’t see how you can waste 
this beautiful place and this lovely weather as you do. There 
isn’t a man on earth worthy of such a sacrifice : Horace 
Grinned most certainly isn’t, — and, besides, he doesn’t know 
about your misery, and so cannot be moved by it.” 

“ You must allow me to manage my own feelings in my 
own way,” said Lilian, coldly, and Laura, finding the case 
hopeless, withdrew. 


12 * 


138 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL . 


CHAPTER XVI. 

CROSS-PURPOSES. 

As though to resent Lilian’s lack of appreciation of weather 
and scenery, Castine about this time surrounded itself with 
dense clouds of fog and mist and exchanged its dry, sweet 
air for chilly winds and penetrating dampness. This state 
of things lasted nearly a week, during which period almost 
every variety of storm was represented, without a single in- 
terval of weather such as summer-boarders have a right to 
expect. Sometimes the vapor would precipitate itself in 
great splashes like enormous drops of rain, — “ Scotch mist,” 
Mary called it, — and again the fog would shift and roll, 
promising to break, and breaking the promise over and over 
again all day. 

Long excursions, either for pleasure or for exercise, were 
not to be thought of. A run in the garden once or twice a 
day, and an occasional walk up and down the steep main 
street, where there was a plank-walk to mark the road and no 
danger of falling off into the sea, were the only resources left 
our party. Lilian, however, persisted in her newly-adopted 
habit of strolling about by herself. Three times a day, after 
every meal, she started off on her solitary promenade, saying 
nothing beforehand of her intended course, and giving no 
account of her adventures on her return. The rest of the 
time she spent chiefly in her own room, apparently busily 
occupied in writing or reading whenever Laura or Mrs. Preble 
visited her, and evidently feeling no interest in the pursuits 
with which the others whiled away the time. 

Mrs. Preble even forgot her grudge against the obnoxious 
box of porcelain so far as to urge her niece to bring her 
painting into the other room, where she and Sarah sat sewing, 
while Laura read aloud or busied herself with the various 
sketches she had made during their walks. But all such 
overtures were rejected. She was not in the mood for paint- 
ing. She had no flowers. She owed a great many letters, 
and preferred to get them off her hands while the weather 
was bad. 


CROSS-PURPOSES. 


139 


“ I can’t make her out at all,” said Mrs. Preble to Laura, 
in one of their confidential talks at night. “ Do you suppose 
she is offended at anything we have said or done ?” 

“ No,” replied Laura. “ If she is, she can speak out and 
say what it is. I have no patience with such sullenness. 
She must be feeling as well as usual, or she couldn’t walk so 
much. I think she finds it dull here, and that makes her 
worry about everything which doesn’t quite suit her in her 
life. I’ve seen her in these glums before. The only way is 
to let her alone till she chooses to come out of them.” 

“ Do you think she can be carrying on any kind of flirta- 
tion with the priest?” asked Mrs. Preble, after a pause, 
during which Laura had almost dropped asleep. 

“The priest? Why, no!” answered Laura, thoroughly 
aroused. u Where could she see him ? Do you mean when 
she goes out to walk ?” 

“ Yes. You know how seldom he is in the house, and it 
is a new thing for her to go out alone. He seems like a 
straightforward sort of man, but you never can tell what a 
priest will do, especially when there is any hope of making a 
convert. It never occurred to me till to-day, but I shouldn’t 
wonder at all if the whole town is gossiping about those 
two.” 

“ If you think that, I’ll watch her a little. When the 
weather clears off I will take the opera-glass and go up to 
the fort. One can scour the whole town from there, and, 
unless they have some really secret place of meeting, I may 
find out all about it. But I hardly believe there is anything 
of that kind going on. There is no comfort in wandering 
about in the cold fog, and they could not easily meet in such 
weather, for nobody can see a yard ahead out of doors.” 

The next morning the sun rose bright and clear, and every 
trace of the fog had vanished. Lilian started on her walk 
soon after breakfast, as usual, and Laura, after seeing from 
the hall window that her cousin had taken the road towards 
the light-house, threw on her things, and, slipping the opera- 
glass in her pocket, made the best of her way up Main Street 
to the fort ; but nobody was to be seen, and, after watching 
and waiting awhile, she went back to report the uselessness 
of her search. 

She would have laughed if she had known that the priest, 


140 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL. 


had been there before her, and on seeing her approach had 
hurried to the shelter of the nearest clump of trees, from 
behind which he was watching her with his glass, while she 
was sweeping the open country with hers , and Lilian in the 
distant meadow, concealed by a high rock, was bringing twelve 
A 1 lenses to bear upon them both. 

For the priest had discovered that the fort was an excel- 
lent post of observation, commanding all the thoroughfares 
of the tiny peninsula. And it was to avoid Lilian, not to 
seek her, that he enacted daily the part of a sentinel upon 
the ruined bastions. Only once had they met, and that was 
down near the battery, where he had been exploring the site 
of the old French “ half-moon fort,” because it was possibly 
the site also of a certain chapel to u our Lady of Holy Hope,” 
erected by the Jesuits in the old, old days, and long ago de- 
stroyed and forgotten by all but the brethren of that, tena- 
cious order of which the Rev. Thomas Daly was the present 
representative. Absorbed in his calculations and meditations, 
the enthusiastic priest had forgotten the danger from which 
his instincts had on several other occasions preserved him, 
and Lilian w r as beside him before he was aware of her having 
followed in his direction. He could not avoid the interview ; 
but he made it as short as he could by walking rapidly back 
to the village, and he kept the conversation from personal 
subjects by giving an account of the early labors of the 
Jesuits in ikcadia, Castine having formerly been included in 
the region known by that name. 

This one meeting had whetted Lilian’s eagerness for a 
nearer acquaintance, while it had also redoubled the priest’s 
vigilance in avoiding a repetition of the incident. It is to 
be feared that his former low opinion of a u Protestant- Pagan 
education 11 for young ladies sank into the abysses of contempt 
as he witnessed the persistent efforts of this daughter of the 
“Anglican” faith to intrude upon his celibate reserve. 

He would not have objected to an occasional chat with 
gentle Mrs. Preble, or even with her young charges, if all 
three had acted as sensibly as two of them did. But Lilian’s 
dress and manner on that first day had put him on his guard 
so effectually that he was thenceforth armed at all points 
against invasion. He slid hastily past her door on his way 
down-stairs, and, under pretence of long walks to be made into 


CR OSS- P XJRPOSES. 


141 


the country, he contrived to have his meals served a little 
before the regular time, so as to prevent any chance encoun- 
ters in the dining-room or the hall or any attempt at a 
resumption of secret correspondence. When the bell sum- 
moned the ladies to the table they generally found Mr. Daly 
ready to leave it, and even Lilian’s ingenuity could find no 
pretext for following him out of the room. She tried being 
late on several occasions, but he waited patiently until she 
appeared and was well settled in her place, and all the reward 
she had for her manoeuvre was the annoyance of hearing 
how agreeable the priest had made himself to the others 
before her arrival. 

It was fortunate for the poor man that the house was now 
under the sole management of Mary. Perhaps Mrs. Turner 
would have objected to serving up a portion of each* meal in 
advance of the time for the convenience of one guest out of 
the five, and would have kept watch to discover the cause of 
such an innovation. But Mary’s skilful hand and busy foot 
were, from the first announcement of his nationality, at the 
service of the priest. All her ways and habits of thought 
were essentially American, and she was, or fancied herself to 
be, a stout Protestant and a despiser of the Catholic faith, 
particularly as exemplified in the character of the plagues of 
servants who every summer came from Boston to try her 
soul ; but all her native inherited instincts of respect and 
loyalty awakened at the sight of her black-coated countryman, 
and she was ready to consider every person who stood in the 
way of his comfort as an enemy, to be ignored or thwarted 
as circumstances might demand. Her shrewd eye had de- 
tected the true meaning of the scene in the garden, and it 
needed no direct explanation on the part of Mr. Daly to 
show her that Miss Thorne was “ after” the priest and that 
the priest wished to avoid Miss Thorne’s society. Hence 
,Mary had responded at once to the suggestion of separate 
meals, and was always to be met with on the stairs or in the 
passages whenever there was danger of an unexpected tete-d- 
tete. 

It need not be said that Mary enjoyed this policy of cir- 
cumvention, as women always enjoy outwitting each other in 
affairs concerning the opposite sex. 

She had distrusted Lilian from the first, suspecting her to 


142 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL. 


be a lodger who would put on airs and require an unreason- 
able amount of waiting on. And although the simple ar- 
rangements of the Acadian Hotel did not leave much chance 
for demands in the way of extra service, she perceived with 
grim satisfaction that her prognostications were fulfilled, so 
far as the general disorder of Lilian’s chamber was con- 
cerned. 

“ The others spread open their beds and pick up their 
things themselves, and hang their dresses in the closet, and 
turn their tooth-brushes upside down to dry,” she informed 
Mrs. Turner, when reproved for being so long about the 
chamber-work, “ but. Miss Thorne’s duds are in a regular 
slew. It takes me a good half-hour to get her room into any 
kind of order. And the worst of it is, she always locks her 
closet door, so that I can’t hang up her dresses, and I have to 
smooth them out on the back of a chair.” 

Nevertheless, on one occasion during Mrs. Turner’s absence 
Lilian forgot to take the key out of the closet door, and Mary, 
venturing to put things to rights, was astonished at the dis- 
covery of the mimic altar with its costly and curious orna- 
ments. She made haste to divulge the secret to Father Daly, 
whose remarks aud explanations enlightened the quick-witted 
Irish girl considerably as to the respective merits of the true 
Catholic worship and its feeble counterfeit, the ritualistic 
branch of the Anglican communion. Thanks to the nation- 
ality of her informant and the skill of his address, her sym- 
pathies were enlisted for the verity against the sham, and 
thenceforth her manner towards Lilian assumed a tincture of 
contempt which was almost impertinence, presenting a strong 
contrast to the rough good nature of her conduct towards the 
other three ladies. 

Of course this tacit understanding between guest and ser- 
vant led to a better acquaintance, and Mrs. Preble, sitting in 
her quiet chamber, began to be greatly worried at the frequent 
sound of murmured conversation going on in the dining-room 
below, which, coupled with the unusual eating-hours of the 
priest, led her to fear that he was taking advantage of the 
absence of the mistress to make friends with the maid. She 
waited two or three days in silence, and then, finding that the 
talks only began the earlier and lasted the later, she resolved 
to investigate the matter, and, armed with the ever-ready fern- 


CROSS-PURPOSES. 


143 


inine excuse of wanting a glass of water, she went down-stairs 
and opened suddenly the dining-room door. 

“ I really couldn’t have it on my conscience not to look after 
the girl !” she said to Laura, in relating her anxieties and fears 
when they were alone at night. “ But I needn’t have wor- 
ried ; though still I cannot see what it all means. There sat 
the priest at the empty end of the table, as severe and dig- 
nified as ever, and not at all disturbed at my entrance, and 
Mary was standing a good way off, reading a letter, and with 
a long iron spoon in her hand, as though she had been inter- 
rupted while getting supper. They both looked up as I en- 
tered, and’ I could see that Mary had been crying. I know 
by the way the priest looked at me that he knew why I had 
come, and that he wanted me to be assured of my mistake. 
Mary went and got the water, and did not appear to notice 
anything. And so I left them. But I don’t see why he can’t 
wait till we are all there before he begins to eat. It looks 
very queer.” 

“ Perhaps it is because he is accustomed to eat alone, or 
only with men, that he feels awkward in ladies’ company,” was 
Laura’s solution of the mystery. “ And he gets Mary to give 
him his meals earlier, so that he can finish before we do, and 
hurry off. And, you know, Mary is Irish, though one would 
hardly discover it in her speech or ways. Probably he noticed 
the slight difference in tone and recognized her for his country- 
woman ; and you know how clannish the Irish are.” 

“ Yes, but why should she be crying over a letter?” 

“ Oh, perhaps it was from one of her Irish relations. Or 
she may have been consulting him about her love-affairs. It 
might be a hundred things. At any rate, it was all sober earn- 
est, and there was no flirting going on. And Mrs. Turner is 
coming home day after to-morrow. If anything is wrong she 
will be sure to find it out.” 

But the mystery righted itself, without waiting for any in- 
vestigation on the part of Mrs. Turner. 

The next morning, when they went down to breakfast, not 
only was the priest there, with the contents of his plate and 
cup nearly consumed, but his valise and umbrella lay on a chair 
by the door, and as soon as his meal was dispatched he an- 
nounced his departure in a few words of polite farewell, and 
started off at once to take his place in the stage. 


144 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL. 


“ He didn’t even offer to shake hands with us !” exclaimed 
Laura, in pretended pique. 

“ I think Catholic priests, as a rule, avoid shaking hands with 
ladies,” said Mrs. Preble. “ And it is very sensible of them. 
I suppose he paid his bill and said good-by to Mary before we 
came down. I hear her tramping around the kitchen as 
usual. But of course she knows he is going away.” 


CHAPTER XVII. 

TEACHER AND SUPERINTENDENT. 

The mail that evening brought a letter from an old school- 
mate of Mrs. Preble, who, happening to be staying a few days 
at Bangor, had heard of her friend’s proximity, and, not being 
able to run down to Castine, had written to urge a meeting at 
Bangor. 

“ Let us go,” said Laura. “ It will be a pleasant little trip. 
You know we shall pass through Bucksport ; and they say the 
scenery is charming just there.” 

“ Well, we will start to-morrow morning, then ; for nobody 
can tell how long this fine weather will last,” replied her 
mother. “ I should really enjoy seeing Mrs. Ellis, and the 
change would do Lilian good. I don’t like her staying so 
much alone and rambling about by herself, as she has taken to 
doing lately.” 

On inquiry, Lilian was found amenable to the sudden plan, 
but, to the surprise of all, Sarah begged off. 

“ I feel a little like having one of my headaches,” she said, 
“ and the long ride in the stage would be sure to bring it on. 
I should spoil all your sport, I know I should, besides not be- 
ing able to enjoy anything myself. But you needn’t fret about 
leaving me here alone. I shall have a nice quiet time all by 
myself, and at meals there will be Mrs. Turner and Mary to 
talk to, if I feel lonesome. You will be gone only a few days ; 
and who could be lonesome with this view before one’s eyes all 
the time ?” 


TEACHER AND SUPERINTENDENT. 


145 


So it was arranged, and the next morning Sarah saw the 
others off in the stage, and then, after a stroll along the wharves, 
she returned to the silent hotel and began her nice quiet time 
all by herself. 

For her long-continued habits of independent action and 
undisturbed self-communion had made of Sarah a solitary soul, 
and, much as she enjoyed the society of her kind relatives, she 
found a new pleasure in wandering alone about the neglected 
garden and sitting alone in the clean silence of the empty 
rooms up-stairs. Besides, Lilian’s presence was a constant irri- 
tation, all the more, perhaps, because, since Laura’s warning, 
Sarah had not permitted herself to discuss contested points in 
Mrs. Preble’s hearing, or indulge in any of those neat, well- 
spiced retorts which had formerly been so great a relief in her 
intercourse with the New York belle. Now, Lilian was away 
and the weather was beautiful, and the house was perfectly 
quiet, and she was free to wander and dream and enjoy the 
scenery after her own fashion. 

The whole forenoon she luxuriated in her liberty. She 
sauntered up and down the garden walk ; she went up-stairs 
and sewed a little ; she brought her writing-materials into her 
aunt’s room and added a few lines to her verses on “ Cam- 
den Hills at Sunset;” and finally she wrote a longer and 
more affectionate letter than usual to her aunt Abby, who, 
perhaps, was feeling rather lonely without her. By the time 
the letter was finished it was too near the dinner-hour for her 
to begin any other piece of work, so she sat idle in her low 
chair by the window, looking out upon the shimmering sea 
and the distant hills, until the bell summoned her to go down- 
stairs. 

“ Well, this is a thinning out !” were the first words of Mrs. 
Turner, who had come back about an hour before. “ But it 
is only this meal that you will be obliged to eat entirely alone. 
I found a letter from Mr. Deering, saying that he would be 
here to-day. I haven’t seen him before this year. Generally 
he comes oftener. Indeed, he seems like one of the family, 
he is off and on so much, going to Ellsworth. Ellsftvorth is 
the county town, you know. There’s Mary, she would run 
her legs off any day for Mr. Deering, no matter how tired 
she might be.” 

“ Who is Mr. Deering ?” asked Sarah, rather aghast at 
ok 13 


146 LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL. 

the prospect of a new boarder, now that all the others were 
away. 

“ He is just the best man in the world !” was Mrs. Turner’s 
emphatic reply. “ Lives at Belfast. He’s a lawyer, but I 
don’t believe he likes it much. He’s State Superintendent 
of Schools now, and so he’s running about hither and yon all 
the time. He’s always busy about schools, or something or 
other. Everybody likes him. I shouldn’t wonder a bit if 
that man should be Governor of the State of Maine some 
day. He’s known all over, away up to Aroostook and 
everywhere. And he’s a good Republican, and a good 
Christian, and doesn’t drink. Not a mite like a politician, 
and yet he has a good deal to do with politics. You’ll see, 
that man will be up in the world some day. It’s a real nice 
family, through and through.” 

“ Are the others coming too?” asked Sarah. 

“ No, I guess not. He generally comes alone. There’s a 
whole tribe of ’em, and they live mostly together in a great 
big house at the top of the hill as you go up from the wharf. 
It’s a beautiful place.” 

“ I wonder if that was the place I saw,” said Sarah. “ A 
large, square house, with a good deal of ground around it, 
and fine old trees.” 

“ To be sure, that’s the very house : there isn’t any other 
like it on the whole street. Well, they live there, and the 
rest of the family live close by. There’s his grandmother, as 
old as the hills and bent ’most double, and yet she’s as lively 
as a cricket, — knits stockings for the whole of them. And 
there’s his mother and father and sister, and his brother and 
his wife and three children. I don’t really know any of ’em 
but him and his sister. Sometimes he brings the oldest boy 
with him, but generally he comes alone.” 

Sarah felt relieved on hearing that the stranger was a 
married man with a wife and three children, and during the 
long sunny afternoon which she spent with a book under a 
spicy fir-tree near the light-house, where she could listen to 
the waves and look out upon the wide offing, her enjoyment 
was not disturbed by thoughts of the introduction which must 
take place at supper-time, and the necessity of keeping up 
some kind of conversation during the meal. Indeed, she had 
almost forgotten the expected guest, when, on opening the 


TEACHER AND SUPERINTENDENT. 


147 


dining-room door, she found Mrs. Turner in the full tide of 
chat with a robust, full-bearded, curly-headed man, whose 
broad forehead and blue eyes and ruddy, cheeks and white 
teeth all seemed to be taking part in the cheerful smile with 
which he welcomed the friendly disclosures of his delighted 
hostess. 

“ And here’s Miss Davis,” said Mrs. Turner, breaking her 
story short off. “ Miss Davis, Mr. Deering ; Mr. Deering, 
Miss Davis. Now you can talk to each other, while I see to 
the flap-jacks. Flour flap-jacks. And the maple syrup is 
first-rate. You see, I haven’t forgotten your tastes. It’s 
lucky you wrote that letter, or you wouldn’t have had ’em 
to-night.” 

The smile which had replied to Mrs. Turner’s announce- 
ment of good cheer faded away as the kitchen door closed 
after her ; but the expression of frank good-nature still 
beamed from the stranger’s countenance as he turned towards 
Miss Davis and took a rapid survey of her face and figure. 

She had taken her usual seat at the table, but had pushed 
back her chair as though to intimate that eating was not her 
only aim in life, and she was a very pleasing object in her 
brown travelling-dress with a white ruffle and a rose-colored 
bow at the throat, and her dark brown hair arranged in 
simple braids at the back of her head. 

“ I’ve been up to the Normal School this afternoon,” said 
Mr. Deering, in the tone of an old acquaintance. “ It is 
really a very fine building. Every time I see it I like it 
better and better. And it was designed by a Castine archi- 
tect, too. Have you been in it, Miss Davis ?” 

“ No. I admire it very much from the outside, but it has 
always been closed when I have passed by.” 

“ Exactly. It was after school-hours, I suppose. Do you 
feel interested in schools ?” 

“ I ought to,” answered Sarah, looking up with a smile. 
“ I have taught school for the last ten years.” 

“ Ten years I” he exclaimed. “ You must have begun very 
young.” 

“ Not so very,” replied Sarah, who was perfectly willing 
that this middle-aged married man should know how old she 
was. “ I began when I was nineteen.” 

“ Well, how do you like the work?” 


148 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL . 


“ I like it very much, — so much that I go at it heart and 
soul and wear myself out in consequence. That is the reason 
I am here now, instead of being in the school-room at home. 
The doctor said I must rest at least a year ; and so my kind 
aunt brought me up here for a change of air.’’ 

“ Dear me !” was Mr. Deering’s comment. “ I hope it is 
doing you good.” 

“ Yes, indeed. The air is delightfully bracing, and the 
perfect quiet is exactly what I need. I feel like another 
creature already.” 

“ And are you going back to the same school by and by ?” 

“ Yes, if they can keep the place long enough for me. 
They have taken a substitute for this year, with the under- 
standing that I am to go back if I wish. You see, I have 
taught there so long that everybody knows me.” 

“I see. Well, now, that is very interesting. I am glad 
I have met you, for you have had so much experience in 
different departments that you can give me a great deal of 
information upon some points which are a continual worry 
to me. There is so much difference in teachers ! Some 
keep good order, and don’t know how to teach. And others 
teach well, and haven’t enough authority. And once in a 
while there comes along somebody with a real genius for 
instructing and commanding too, but, because it isn’t all done 
quite according to rule, the superintendent and the other 
teachers complain, and that breaks it all up.” 

Just at this point the flap-jacks began to come in, and 
Sarah Davis drew her chair to the table, while Mr. Deering 
took the next place and prepared to do full justice to his 
favorite dish. Nevertheless, it is to be feared that he paid 
less heed than usual to the well-browned cakes with their 
crisp edges, and failed to remark the superior quality of the 
maple syrup as compared with the yield of the previous 
year, while listening to the condensed review of his neigh- 
bor’s ten years of pedagogical experience. 

“ Do you believe in opening school with religious exer- 
cises ?” asked Mr. Deering in one of the pauses of the conver- 
sation. 

“ Well, no, to tell the honest truth, I do not. I mean, as 
things are, I think it would be better not to do it. I am a 
professor of religion myself, and I enjoy the services ; but as 


TEACHER AND SUPERINTENDENT. 


149 


for the great majority of the pupils, I don’t think^it makes a 
whit of difference whether they hear a chapter read and a 
prayer said and a hymn sung, or go directly to their recita- 
tions. And, considering how much there is at stake, I think 
it would be better to keep the public school entirely separate 
from religion. In Billerica, for instance, there are a good 
many Catholic and a few Jewish pupils, and they are obliged 
to have a special permission to come to school half an hour later 
than the others, so as to avoid taking part in the opening ex- 
ercises. I don’t like the looks of it ; and it goes deeper than 
looks, too. 

“ For my part, I wish the authorities would turn their atten- 
tion more to the importance of having only one session a day. 
It is a great wrong to teachers and pupils to make them re- 
sume their duties immediately after dinner, to say nothing of 
the walk to the school-house in the hot sun.” 

Supper was over, and Mary cleared the table. But Mr. 
Peering still plied his questions, and Sarah could not do 
otherwise than stay in the dining-room and continue talking. 

' “ Let me tell you,” she said, finally, “ what delicate taste 
my class showed on one occasion lately. I was obliged to 
give up teaching at the end of the spring term, and for two 
or three weeks afterwards I was confined to the house. 
What did those girls do but go and buy me this beautiful 
gold ring? and, instead of coming themselves to present it, 
they sent it by a little girl, the youngest pupil in the room, a 
child who did not recite to me at all, but whom I had often 
praised in their hearing for her neatness and politeness and 
her perfect deportment at her desk. She was an Irish girl, 
by the way, — one of the Catholics who did not come to 
prayers. 

“ Well, they selected her as their messenger, and her mother 
dressed her up in white muslin and blue ribbons, and she 
brought me the ring in a little box, with an affectionate letter 
from my class. 

“ Now, wasn’t that prettily done ? I am so glad that the 
ring is of plain gold, for I can wear it all the time.” 

“ Yes, I noticed the ring,” said Mr. Peering. “ It is very 
rich and heavy. I thought it was probably your engagement- 
ring.” 

“ Oh,” said Sarah, with a blush and a smile, “ engage- 

13 * 


150 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL. 


ment-rings are quite out of my line. According to the old 
way of counting, I ought to wear a ring on my little finger, 
— ‘ Friendship , Engaged , Married , Old Maid, you know. 
Besides, this is on. my right hand.” 

“ Yes, I see,” laughed Mr. Deering. “ That leaves your 
left hand free for one of the other sort.” 

“ I don’t think there is any danger of my needing it,” 
said Sarah, lightly, as she rose to return to her own room. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

NEW ACQUAINTANCES. 

“ There is no place like Castine, after all !” cried Laura, as 
she stood at the open window, brushing the dust out of her 
travelling-dress. “ They make such a fuss about the situa- 
tion of Bucksport — well, it is very fine, to be sure ; and Ban- 
gor is a pretty little city ; but neither of them can be com- 
pared to this place. And we had a pleasant visit with Mrs. 
Ellis ; but, after all, I am glad to be back in our quiet rooms. 
But what have you been doing, Sarah ? Didn’t you miss us 
a bit?” 

“ Indeed I did ; but I have had quite a gay time. I have 
been to the light-house afternoons, and one day I spent at 
North Castine. Mrs. Turner was so kind as to take me with 
her. We had a covered buggy and a good, old, slow horse, 
and I did enjoy it very much. And we have had a new 
boarder, too.” 

“ A new boarder? You don’t say so ! Quick ! tell us all 
about it, — name, age, country, sex, business, value of property, 
religious persuasion, etc.” 

“ Oh, he didn’t stay long enough for me to find out all 
that.” 

“ Just hear the child !” cried Laura, turning to Lilian. 
“ It was a he ! It takes Sarah to call the beaux around as 
soon as we are out of sight.” 

“ Unfortunately, this was a married man,” replied Sarah. 
11 You will see him soon : he is coming back. He lives in 


NEW ACQUAINTANCES. 


151 


Belfast, — in tlie very house we admired so much, if you will 
believe it, Laura. He is State Superintendent of Schools, 
and travels about most of the time. He asked me all about 
our schools at home.” 

“ I’ll tell you what, Sarah,” said Laura, “ you do your 
prettiest when he is around, and perhaps he will give you a 
position in one of the Belfast schools, — or here in Castine. 
That would be still better. It is ever so much healthier for 
you here, and we would come up every summer. Such a 
chance isn’t to be despised, I assure you.” 

“ Of course I should like it. But it is too good ever to 
come to pass.” 

“ Who knows ? Stranger things than that have happened. 
I am going to prophesy that you will yet become a fixture on 
the coast of Maine.” 

Mr. Deering’s return was quite an event for the quiet 
circle of the u Acadian,” and there was no dissentient voice 
as to his good looks, his good sense, and his good nature. He 
kept the ladies talking in the dining-room after every meal, 
until Mrs. Preble’s housewifely instincts began to take alarm 
lest landlady and maid-of-all-work should protest with words or 
looks against the prolonged stay in their particular premises. 
But nothing of the kind occurred. Mary came in and car- 
ried off the dishes with a smile on her flushed face, and Mrs. 
Turner’s affability only increased with the progress of ac- 
quaintance between the strangers and her pet boarder. He 
still kept his place at table next to Sarah, and he was apt to 
direct his conversation to her when talking about schools ; 
but he was so attentive to them all in a brotherly fashion that 
they all liked him, and even Lilian had no fault to find with 
his polite though very unconventional manners. 

He accompanied the girls on rambles to the Block House 
and the woods beyond Hatch’s Point and other places where 
they did not like to go alone ; he rowed them to High Head 
and to Nautilus Island ; he taught them to skip stones as 
they sat on the shore ; and it was at his suggestion that Mrs. 
Turner had a croquet-ground prepared in the garden for their 
amusement at home. 

“ I wonder he never speaks of his wife,” said Laura, one 
day, after they had been discussing his merits. 

“ Depend upou it, they don’t live happily together,” replied 


152 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL. 


Lilian. “ Men are hardly ever so generous and amiable until 
they have been martyred in some way or other. I mean to 
give a hint some day, just to make him talk about his 
family.” 

“ I hope you will dQ nothing of the kind,” said Mrs. 
Preble, anxiously. “ His private affairs are none of our 
business, and if there is anything wrong at home it would 
only embarrass him, particularly as he no doubt thinks Mrs. 
Turner has told us the whole story.” 

So Mr. Peering came and went, unchallenged as to his 
domestic happiness or misery ; only a feeling of sympathy for 
imagined discontent was added to the genuine friendliness of 
his new acquaintances, making them consider it a duty as 
well as a pleasure to render his short visits at the “ Acadian” as 
agreeable as possible. 

“ You don’t know what an adventure I’ve had this morn- 
ing !” cried Lilian to Laura, as they met at the corner of the 
street. Lilian had been out by herself, and she carried in 
her hand an exquisite little bouquet of tea-roses, verbenas, 
and heliotrope. 

“ Do tell me about it ! I am curious to hear,” replied 
Laura, stooping to smell of the flowers. 

“ Oh, there isn’t so very much to tell. There is a house 
at the end of the next street which I have often noticed, it 
looks so cosey. There is a rustic porch over the door, and a 
tall fir-tree at one corner, and the yard is full of shrubs and 
flowers. I was looking over the fence at the verbenas, and a 
lady came out of the porch and spoke to me. I suppose she 
had been sitting there, but I could not see her, the lattice- 
work is so covered with vines. She asked me if I would like 
a few flowers, and I said 1 yes,’ and so she picked me this 
bouquet.” 

“ It is lovely,” said Laura. “ The tea-roses are perfect, 
and you don’t often see a purple verbena of that shade. Now 
you can begin to paint your breakfast-set.” 

“ Thank you. You don’t catch me shutting myself up in 
my room in such weather as this !” said Lilian, hastily. 

“ Well, we chatted awhile about the flowers, and then she 
asked me into the parlor. It is a charming room, full of all 
sorts of odd foreign things and embroidery, and she has an 
ivy running all around the wall. I didn’t expect to see any- 


NEW ACqUAINTANCES. 


153 


thing so tasteful in Castine. One table was full of books, 
and in the middle, all bj itself, lay a little prayer-book. I 
knew it by the cross on the outside. Of course I pounced 
upon it without delay, and she told me that she belonged to 
the Church. I asked her how in the world she managed to 
live here ; but she is evidently one of the old-fashioned kind 
of Episcopalians. She doesn’t mind it as I should. Still, it 
is better than nothing. My heart warmed to her in a minute, 
k didn’t feel so utterly alone and forlorn after I saw that 
little prayer-book. 

“ She expects a host of company pretty soon. She invited 
me to come again, but I presume she will not have time to 
call upon me. She was surprised when I told her how long 
I had been here. It appears that the church, or meeting- 
house, is the place where everybody is expected to be seen. 
She says it is so short a time since Castine has begun to be 
known as a watering-place that it doesn’t occur to the citizens 
to keep track of the strangers who come to the hotel. Be- 
sides, almost every family has a houseful of friends in the 
summer. 

“ You wouldn’t like her. She is too pious to suit you.” 

“ I don’t know about that,” said Laura. “ I like a good 
many pious people. Our mutual friends at Dempster, for 
instance, — you won’t easily find more pious people than they 
are, and yet I got along with them better than you did, if 
you remember. But I am glad you have found a pleasant 
acquaintance. It will make you more contented here.” 

Lilian did not by any means convey to Laura her real 
impressions concerning Mrs. Bradley. The truth was, that 
lady had held a long discussion with her about religion and 
the affairs of the Church of which they were both members, 
and Lilian was so disgusted at the lack of taste, sentiment, 
and fervor in the opinions of her new acquaintance that she 
would probably have preferred never to speak to her again, 
had she not by accident discovered that Mrs. Bradley’s 
nephew, a young officer from West Point, was coming soon 
to visit his aunt, which event might be productive of much 
enjoyment for herself. 

It enraged her to hear a Church woman declare that she 
was able to participate with profit in the religious services of 
heretics and schismatics, — nay, that she was glad to commune 


154 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL . 


at the Lord’s table with these enemies. It was even worse 
than this. Mrs Bradley had acknowledged that she had no 
sympathy with ritualism ; that she considered it absurd to 
call the Holy Communion the Eucharist; in short, that she 
was an Episcopalian not so much because she believed in the 
Apostolic Succession as because she liked the service and 
looked upon it as a wise protection for the congregation 
against the otherwise possible vagaries of officiating clergy- 
men. As for piety and usefulness and worth of character, 
which were, after all, the test of religious belief, she con- 
tended that the so-called “ sects” could show as bright exam- 
ples of all the virtues as could be found within the pale of 
“ the Church.” 

“ Depend upon it, my dear,” she had said, in conclusion, 
u much of what now attracts you in the ceremonials of your 
religion will lose its charm after you have learned the meaning 
of life through your own experience. You will lament, as I 
do, the separation of Christians upon such trivial grounds as 
the shape of a coat or the nature of a bit of bread, and you 
will wish, as I do, that all good people of every belief would 
unite their forces to disperse ignorance and overthrow wick- 
edness.” 

Lilian had considered these remarks the greatest nonsense. 
She would have liked to see Mrs. Bradley and every other 
Episcopalian holding such loose opinions driven out of the 
Church with ignominy. 

But she judged it best to keep her dissatisfaction a secret 
from her cousin, and her new acquaintance could very well 
be endured for the sake of the expected military nephew. 


A DISAPPEARANCE. 


155 


CHAPTER XIX. 

A DISAPPEARANCE. 

“ I wonder what lias become of Mary !” said Mrs. Turner, 
as the ladies took their seats at the breakfast-table. “ I can’t 
think where she has gone, unless old Mrs. Pierce has been 
taken worse and they came up here for her before I was 
awake. Mrs. Pierce must be dying, or else Mary would have 
made the fire before she went out, or called me, or something. 
I’m going down there to see, now I’ve got breakfast ready.” 

Breakfast was long over, and Mary’s absence had passed 
out of the minds of our party, when there came a sharp 
knock at Mrs. Preble’s door, and, on her opening it, Mrs. 
Turner entered in great agitation. 

“ I can’t understand it !” she exclaimed. “ I’m so worried 
I don’t know what to do ! I’ve been down to the Pierces’, but 
she ain’t there, and hain’t been there since she watched 
with old Mrs. Pierce two nights ago. And I’ve been all 
round the neighborhood and can’t find a sign of her. I’m so 
afraid she’s walked off the wharf!” 

“ What makes you think of such a thing ?” cried Mrs. 
Preble. “ On purpose, do you mean, or by accident ?” 

“ Oh, on purpose, if she’s done it at all,” replied Mrs. 
Turner, the tears coming into her eyes as she spoke. 

“ But why should such an idea come into your head ? Was 
she unhappy about anything?” 

“ No, not that I know of, only she’s been acting rather 
queer and grouty lately, — not all the time, but once in a 
while. And she has had a good many letters, and written a 
good many. I made up my mind I’d ask her what was the 
matter pretty soon, if she didn’t get over her blue streak. I’m 
afraid it’s that wretched Pat Casey that’s at the bottom of it 
all. He’s an Irishman, and he worked for me when I was 
having the house fixed, over two years ago. He’s about the 
only Irishman that has ever been here since Mary grew up. 
First thing I knew, he was courting her and she was dead in 
love with him. I just set my foot down that Mary shouldn’t 


156 


LAVRA , AN AMERICAN GIRL. 


have him. Of course I couldn’t have prevented her if she 
had been determined to marry him, but I said all I could to 
make her see what a fool she was. I didn’t mind his being 
an Irishman, but he was a poor, shiftless coot, drunk half the 
time, and smelling so strong of his old tobacco-pipe that you 
had to hold your nose when you went near him. And he 
was a Catholic, besides. I wondered at Mary, for she could 
have had John Prentiss over to Brooksville, if she’d been a 
mind to, and he’s a good, sober man and has got a splendid 
farm. Pat Casey went back to Boston that same fall, and she 
didn’t seem to fret much about him, and John Prentiss has 
been over here several times lately, and I’ve been in hopes it 
would make a match. 

“ Well, I can’t stop any longer to talk. I must see what I 
can do to find Mary ; and there’s the dinner to get, besides.” 

“ Never mind the dinner,” said Mrs. Preble, good-naturedly. 
“We can pick up anything. Of course you want to do all 
you can to find Mary.” 

“ Yes, but you must have your dinner just as usual,” re- 
plied Mrs. Turner, in her matter-of-fact way. “ If Mary 
lias gone and drowned herself, — and I can’t really believe 
she has, — why, I can’t do anything to save her. If she 
hain’t, she’s alive, and I shall hear about her some time or 
other.” 

The dinner was cooked and served as successfully as though 
there had been no weight of anxiety upon the landlady’s 
mind. 

“ I wish Mary would run away every day,” said Lilian. 
“ Mrs. Turner thinks she is as good a cook as she is ; but she 
isn’t. She doesn’t brown the toast evenly, and there is 
always one corner of her mutton-chops that looks as though 
it had never come near the fire at all.” 

But, though “ housekeeping and the cares of gravy” claimed 
their due portion of Mrs. Turner’s attention, she seemed to 
to have been diligent in her inquiries all the time the dinner 
was in preparation ; for when she came in to clear the table 
for dessert, she announced that one of the neighbors had seen 
a light in Mary’s window before daylight, and that a farmer 
from off the Neck who had just come into Castine had sent 
word that early that morning he had met the girl, with a 
bundle in her hand, walking on the Bucksport road.” 


• A DISAPPEARANCE. 


157 


“ It’s a relief to hear that,” said Mrs. Turner ; “ but why 
on earth she has run away, I can’t conceive. She had a 
right to leave me if she wanted to ; but, after all I’ve done 
for her, she might at least have told me her plans and said 
good-by.” 

“ Have you searched her room ?” asked Mrs. Preble. 

u La, yes, over and over. But there ain’t a sign of any- 
thing more than usual. Her bed looks as though she had 
slept in it ; but perhaps she just rumpled it up on purpose. 
Her trunk is locked, and the key is gone : I presume she 
means to send for it. Well, there’s nothing to do but wait 
and see whether she writes and explains it all. If she don’t, 
I suppose it’ll all leak out by and by. But it’s a mystery 
to me.” 

“ Yes, and it is very hard for you, too,” said Mrs. Preble, 
sympathizingly. “ What are you going to do for help ?” 

“ Well, I don’t know, I’m sure, unless I can get Semanthy 
Driukwater. She’s at home just now from the factory. She 
has a pain in her side, and the doctor says she must do some 
other kind of work. Maybe she’ll come for a while. If 
there should be a rush by and by, I’ll have to send to Bos- 
ton for help, I suppose. But I’m afraid there won’t be many 
strangers here this year, it is getting on so late now. Dear 
me ! I do wish I knew what’s become of Mary ! She seemed 
almost like my own child. But of course if she was my 
own child I should feel it a great deal worse than I do. She 
was a good girl. She had a quick temper, — the Irish always 
have, I suppose, — and she has tried me a good deal lately. 
Come to look back, I don’t think she has ever been quite the 
same since she knew that Pat Casey. I presume he tried to 
set her against me.” 

The community was evidently in a ferment over the mys- 
terious disappearance. All the afternoon there was a constant 
running in and out down-stairs, and the usually quiet dining- 
room was a buzz of chatter. 

As Sarah said, if the people had only been strangers, the 
house would have seemed quite like a hotel. 

Towards tea-time, however, the excitement subsided, and 
after the girls had started for a walk and Mrs. Preble was 
alone, Mrs. Turner came up with a request to speak with her 
a few moments. 


14 


158 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL . 


“ You know I told you,” slie began, “ that Mary has been 
getting a good many letters lately, and that I thought of ask- 
ing her what it meant. Well, the postmaster says they were 
all in the handwriting of the priest who was here, — what’s his 
name? — Mr. Daly. So it isn’t Pat Casey, after all. And he 
says there was a letter sent to Boston to the 4 Rev . Thomas 
Daly ’ a little while ago, and he thought at the time, and 
thinks now, that Mary wrote it. So I suppose the priest has 
enticed her away. Of course I shall try to get her back ; but 
I presume he will hide her in some nunnery, so that nobody 
can find her. Well, it only shows what rascals Catholic 
priests are ! If I had been at home all the time, it wouldn’t 
have happened. But I never dreamed of any danger for 
Mary in having that man around. I want to ask you whether 
you ever saw anything queer going on while I was away.” 

“ They were together a good deal,” replied Mrs. Preble, 
slowly. 44 She used to give him his meals before the regular 
time, and he used to be in the dining-room alone with her 
between dinner and supper. Once I went down to see what 
was going on, feeling rather responsible during your absence.” 

44 Well, what did you see ?” inquired Mrs. Turner, eagerly. 

44 Nothing at all wrong,” Mrs. Preble hastened to answer. 
44 He was sitting at the lower end of the table, and she was 
standing a good way off. She had an iron spoon in her hand, 
as though she had just come in from the kitchen. There 
were some letters open on the table before him, and Mary had 
evidently been crying.” 

44 Ah, I understand,” said Mrs. Turner, shaking her head 
significantly. 44 She was telling him about her love-affair 
with Pat, and showing him the letters he wrote after he went 
back to Boston. They are all Irish together, you see.” 

44 Yes,” answered Mrs. Preble, 44 and I think the whole 
secret of the matter lies in that fact. The priest has probably 
induced her to go to Boston to be with the rest of the Irish, 
and perhaps to meet that Casey again. But I cannot believe 
that he has enticed her away for any worse purpose. He 
seemed to be an upright man so far as women are concerned. 
That day when I went down to see what they were about, he 
looked at me as much as to say, 4 1 know what you are come 
for , and you are quite right to be on the watch , but you see 
there is no danger .’ After that, I had no fear. I think he 


A DISAPPEARANCE. 


159 


wants to get Mary down there among the Catholics, so as to 
convert her. Then she will marry Pat Casey, or some other 
Irishman, and have a dozen children, who will all be Catholics 
too. And so, you see, Father Daly will have the satisfaction 
of knowing that he has added so many members to his Church. 
He knows that if she stays here she will be a dead loss to 
them, — worse than that, she will be an active enemy, for 
she will probably marry a Protestant and raise up Protestants 
for the next generation. Oh, they are a long-headed set, 
those Catholic priests ! They never forget for a moment 
that it is numbers they want, especially over here, where the 
majority rules.” 

“ But I don’t see how Mary can have forgotten right away 
all she has been taught !” cried Mrs. Turner. “ She used to 
have a perfect horror of the Catholic girls we had to help us, 
and she used to say she knew it was their false religion that 
made them so mean.” 

“ Perhaps the priest did not say much about religion. He 
may have worked on her national sympathies.” 

“ But she hadn’t any. She never knew any Irish at all 
until Pat Casey came here.” 

“ Yes, but you see how she took to him, although she had 
better chances among the people here. The Irish nature is 
in her, in spite of all your training, and there is probably an 
inherited bias towards the religion of her ancestors. She 
may be neater and more industrious and more truthful all her 
life for what you have taught her, but she will no doubt feel 
more at home among her own country-people than she ever 
could with us.” 

“ Now that we have found out what a sly-boots a Catholic 
priest can be, I think I’d better give you a warning, for fear 
somebody else should be missing before long,” said Mrs. Tur- 
ner, in an embarrassed manner. 

“ What do you mean ?” asked Mrs. Preble, completely 
astonished. 

“ Well, I’ll tell you. But I hope you’ll take it as it’s 
meant, and not be offended. Mary told me one day when I 
was up from North Castine that the priest had asked her to 
give him his meals a little earlier than the time, because he 
wanted to keep out of Miss Thorne’s way. He thought she 
wanted to talk to him about religion, and he was sure you 


160 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL. 


wouldn’t like it and would accuse him of trying to get her 
away from her own Church.” 

“ What could have put such an idea into his head ?” asked 
Mrs. Preble, fully convinced in her own mind that Lilian’s 
nun-like costume on the day of the priest’s arrival had done 
the mischief. “ I don’t believe they ever exchanged a word, 
excepting in my presence at table, and their religion was 
never mentioned.” 

il Oh, yes, there was more than that. Mary told me a long 
lingo about a letter, and a meeting on the common, but it all 
went in one ear and out of the other, for my sister was so sick, 
and I had so much to see to while I was up here, that I 
couldn't bother myself about other people’s affairs. But I 
know she said the priest had to manoeuvre ‘to keep out of her 
way. Mary thought at first that she was secretly a Catholic, 
because she wears a big gold cross and has an altar in her 
closet. I really believe that altar had a great influence over 
Mary. She was mightily taken with the pictures.” 

u I haven’t the remotest idea of what you mean !” exclaimed 
Mrs. Preble, in dismay. “ What altar ? and what pictures ?” 

“ So you don’t know about it !” cried Mrs. Turner, astonished 
in her turn. “ Well, then, you ought to. For if Miss Thorne 
is not a Catholic, it’s a pity for her to be doing things that 
make people think she is. Mary found the closet door open 
one day, — it is generally locked, — and she went in to hang up 
some of Miss Thorne’s dresses that were lying around on the 
chairs. And then she saw the altar. She said it was very 
pretty, all covered with lace, and a cross with a figure of Christ 
on it that looked as though it was made out of solid gold, and 
beautiful pictures on a gold ground, and velvet-covered books, 
and all sorts of curious things.” 

“ Well, all I can say is, I never knew that anything of the 
kind existed. But I will speak to my niece about it when she 
comes back. She belongs to the Episcopal Church, — to a branch 
of it which rather affects such ornaments — but I don’t think 
she is in any danger of becoming a Roman Catholic. How- 
ever, I am much obliged to you for telling me what you thought 
I ought to know, and I am sorry that Miss Thorne allowed 
her fondness for religious discussion to expose her conduct to 
misconstruction.” 

That was all she said to Mrs. Turner on the subject ; but 


A DISAPPEARANCE. 


161 


as soon as her visitor was gone, she indulged in a good many 
vigorous comments to herself. “ The deceitful little tyke !” she 
exclaimed ; “ then that was really what she was after in those 
solitary walks ! And she met him, and wrote to him too ! 
And she has gone and set up an altar in her closet ! Curious, 
that she should be so anxious to surround herself with the ex- 
ternals of religion, when she is all the time flying in the face 
of common honesty in her every-day conduct ! Well, I won’t 
have such works about me, that’s certain !” 

So, when the party separated at bedtime, Mrs. Preble fol- 
lowed Lilian into her room and shut the door after her. 

“ Lilian,” she began, in an agitated voice, “ what is all this 
I hear about an altar in your closet ? Mrs. Turner was with 
me while you were out, and she told me a great many strange 
things about you and the priest, — about your writing to him 
and meeting him. Now, what does it all mean ? While you 
are with me I must look after you, though you are old enough 
to take care of yourself, one would think.” 

“ There is nothing for you to worry about, auntie,” answered 
Lilian, in the light tone she generally assumed when found 
fault with. “ I only wrote one little wee note to the priest, 
to ask him something about religion, and he answered it in a 
perfectly proper way. And I never met him but once, and 
then he only walked a few steps with me. I wrote because 
it was something I wanted to know, and I thought you wouldn’t 
like to have me introduce such subjects at the table.” 

“But what about the altar?” persisted Mrs. Preble, seeing 
that Lilian had stopped speaking, as though the whole matter 
were satisfactorily disposed of. 

“ Oh, the altar! Well, as I have no chance of attending 
service while I am up here, I thought I would arrange a few 
little things I brought with me, so as to make it seem more 
like a church when I say my prayers : that is all.” 

“ Have you any objection to letting me see the altar?” 

“ Not the least,” replied Lilian, throwing open the closet 
door and holding the candle so that the light would fall upon 
the gilded ornaments. 

“ H’m ! a very pretty effect !” murmured Mrs. Preble. “ But 
where did you get the frame ? And who put it up for you ?” 

“ Oh, it is only my trunk, set up endwise. I did it my- 
self.” 


I 


14 * 


162 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL. 


“ The trunk again !” groaned Mrs. Preble. “ I was really 
in hopes we had heard the last of that piece of furniture for 
one while ! 

“ Well, now, Lilian,” she continued, turning away from the 
closet, “ hadn’t you any more common sense than to rig up such 
a thing as that in such a place as this ? Didn’t you know that it 
would cause a world of talk and expose us all to the ridicule 
of these Puritanical people ?” 

“ Why, how should anybody know about it? I always kept 
the door locked, and I carried the key with me.” 

“ Not always. You must have forgotten it once in a while, 
for Mary saw that altar long ago and told Mrs. Turner about 
it. She was very much taken with the pictures, and Mrs. 
Turner thinks that was the first thing which influenced her 
to listen to the priest. I don’t know whether it was so or not ; 
but Mrs. Turner believes it, and she will always blame you for 
Mary’s desertion. And how could you lay yourself open to 
the comments of two such persons, — a hired girl and a strange 
boarder ? Just think of it ! Mary told Mrs. Turner that the 
reason the priest took his meals before you came down was to 
avoid you ! I felt as though I should sink through the floor 
when she told me that ! I suppose you thought the priest 
would make an effort to convert you, and you would get some 
amusement or some excitement out of the acquaintance. But 
he was more shrewd than you gave him credit for being. It 
might be a feather in his cap to bring over a rich young lady to 
his Church, but he was wise enough to see that he would help the 
Church more in the end by securing a great, strapping, healthy 
Irish girl ; and so he rejected your overtures, and spent his 
time in persuading her. I’ve no doubt they have had many 
a good laugh together over your conduct. I am really ashamed 
of you, Lilian ! Why didn’t you ask my advice before writing 
to him ? I presume that letter will be handed about from 
Dan to Beersheba, for you can’t trust a priest any more than 
another man. 

“ Well, we can’t help it now,” she resumed, after a pause, 
seeing that Lilian stood still, with heightened color and com- 
pressed lips, evidently determined neither to enter into any 
explanation nor to express contrition for her misdeeds, “ but 
I do hope you will be more prudent in future. All these things 
seem trivial while they are passing, but they go to make up 


A RUSH UPON “ THE ACADIAN .” 


163 


character, and sometimes they come back to influence the 
future, more than one would suppose possible. You cannot 
be too careful what seeds you sow in your youth.” 

“ You're a goose,” muttered Lilian, as the door closed on 
her aunt, “ to make such a fuss about a trifle like that !” 
And Lilian smiled mischievously as she thought of many other 
letters, not about religion, which would make a much greater 
sensation, if the men to whom she had written them should 
ever make their contents known “ from Dan to Beersheba.” 
Nevertheless, she could not help thinking the matter over while 
she was undressing, and she was not insensible to the mean- 
ing of the slight shown her by the priest in preferring a 
strong, healthy Irish girl to a pampered, nervous American 
young lady, as a convert. 

“ Now I understand Mary’s impertinent manner whenever 
I spoke to her,” she said to herself. “ She felt wonderfully 
set up because she was in the priest’s confidence. I hate the 
Irish ! — miserable, gabbling, clannish set 1” 


CHAPTER XX. 

A RUSH UPON “THE ACADIAN.” 

It was lucky for Lilian that Mr. Peering reappeared upon 
the scene early the next morning, before Mrs. Turner had had 
time to show any evidence of dislike for that young lady. 
For Semantha Drinkwater was not to be had for a week at 
least, and the nearest prospect of an assistant in the house- 
work was a farmer’s daughter at Penobscot, who must be con- 
veyed by a special horse and buggy, and who it was feared 
had already accepted a situation at Ellsworth. Consequently, 
Mrs. Turner was just in the mood to lay upon Lilian a more 
than merited share of blame for Mary’s disappearance, and 
might have given expression to her sentiments in a manner 
somewhat reprehensible in a landlady desirous of securing 
summer boarders, had not the smiling countenance of Mr. 
Peering made even the deserted kitchen seem full of sunshine. 

“ His wife must be a regular Jezebel, to quarrel with him,” 


164 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL. 


said Sarah, on her return from an expedition after a hot flat- 
iron. “ There he was in the dining-room, with a great towel 
across his lap, shelling peas for dinner, and talking away 
to Mrs. Turner in the kitchen, and she laughing as though 
he had been saying something very funny. She is in such 
high good humor that I’m sure we can’t have anything less 
than a snow-and-ice-pu,dding for dessert.” 

Indeed, it was lucky for the whole house that Mr. Peering 
was there, for a stage-load of strangers arrived that night, and 
the next day’s boat sent up two hacks filled with trunks and 
the owners thereof. 

“ It never rains but it pours !” cried Mrs. Turner, as she 
watched the swarms descending from the carriages, and thought 
of the dinner-dishes still unwashed, and Mary’s empty chamber 
which must be put to rights for the nurse of those barelegged 
children. It was clearly a case wherein the shelling of a few 
peas by a friendly hand would be only “ a drop in the bucket.” 
But, though Mr. Peering could not be expected to be Mrs. 
Turner’s right-hand man in this emergency, he was invaluable 
as a marshaller of more effective forces, and, thanks to his 
general popularity in Castine, it was not long before a full staff 
of well-dressed neighbors, with their ample skirts pinned back 
and gold watch-chains swinging above their check aprons, 
were on duty, bringing fresh air and fresh linen into long- 
closed chambers, and uniting their skill with that of the anx- 
ious mistress in the manufacture of various hasty products 
of culinary art, intended to cover the deficiencies of a sur- 
prise. 

“ It is a judgment upon us for calling it dull,” said Mrs. 
Preble the next morning. “ Those three children do nothing 
but race up- and down-stairs and draw sticks across the rails, 
and the nurse brings the baby out into the hall close to my 
door when it screams so that they can’t stand it in the 
room.” 

“ Let us be thankful that there is no piano in the house,” 
said Laura. “ The young lady was complaining about it last 
evening in the garden. She wanted to dance. She says they 
are disappointed in the place. They expected to find it very 
gay. They don’t intend to stay more than a week. Then 
they are going to Mount Pesert, and, if that isn’t gay enough, 
good-by to Maine.” 


A RUSH UPON “THE ACADIAN .” 


165 


“ A week are they going to stay?” asked Lilian, looking 
up from her book. “ What a nuisance ! I was provoked at 
you for talking to that girl last night. A little, pert, forward 
thing ! Did you see her trying to flirt with Mr. Deering in 
the front door ?” 

11 She was only chatting with him,” replied Laura ; 11 and 
you know he is friendly towards everybody. She asked about 
him in the garden, and I told her he was married. She said 
she thought from the first that he must be as old as the hills, 
so I don’t think she will take the trouble to run after him. 
They are from St. Louis. What beautiful hair she has !” 

“ Do you admire it ? I call it carroty.” 

“ You are mistaken there, Lilian. Look again when you 
go down to dinner. I never saw just that color before. It 
is neither yellow nor red. Titian would have gone wild over 
it, only it isn’t wavy, and she witches it up into all those 
twists and puffs, so that it doesn’t show for what it is. But 
she manages to get exactly the right shade of ribbon to go 
with it. She is very frank about it. She says she knows it 
is her chief beauty, and so she dresses up to it. It seems 
artists are always trying to get her to sit for her hair. She 
says her head and her feet are her fortune, instead of her 
face. She is passionately fond of dancing. She can beat the 
ballet-girls at their own trade without half trying, she says.” 

Lilian felt very little interested in either the head or the feet 
of Miss Kitty Raymond, but it piqued her to see Mr. Deer- 
ing transfer a portion of his attention to the new-comer, and 
thereupon arose a jealous desire to make an impression upon 
the heart of a man whose gay good-humor had survived the 
depressing influences of a mistaken marriage and an unhappy 
home. His frank ways had hitherto been his safeguard ; Lilian, 
though liking him, had thought his fun too boyish and his 
seriousness too matter-of-fact ; but now, as she heard him 
talk politics with Miss Raymond’s uncle or discuss the dif- 
ferent methods of heating and ventilating public buildings 
with another of the strangers who was an architect, as she 
watched him coaxing into decent behavior the spoiled chil- 
dren on the lawn, or sauntering down the garden-path with 
the bright-haired St. Louis belle, she could not help acknowl- 
edging that she had hitherto overlooked many of his talents 
and attractions. He was handsomer, too, than she had sup- 


166 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL. 


posed. How bright his face looked in comparison with those 
other pale, faded*out specimens of humanity 1 

Accordingly, Mr. Deering was set down in Lilian’s mental 
tablets as the next victim to her charms. “ It will do to 
keep my hand in till Horace comes,” she said to herself. 
“ And the disappointment won’t hurt him. A tinge of sad- 
ness will be a fine shading to his character. He is too merry 
for this world.” 

But it was not very easy to get a chance at Mr. Deering. 
In the first place, he persistently kept his original seat at 
table next to Sarah Davis, with whom he still enjoyed an oc- 
casional talk upon school affairs. The seat beyond him was 
occupied by one of the newly- arrived ladies, and Lilian her- 
self sat two places below on the other side, so that an infre- 
quent glance was all the notice she could rely upon at meals. 
And as soon as she began to seek his society at other times, 
she was provokingly circumvented in a multitude of ways. 
Mrs. Turner was sure to presume upon her longer acquaintance 
with him to call him into the kitchen after supper, when the 
others were all gone off to walk and he might have stayed 
alone with her upon the terrace. In the parlor the children 
were hanging around him continually, and those lazy men 
were always prowling around the front door, with cigars in 
their mouths, ready to join him whenever he started away 
from the house. 

“ It serves me right for not winding him around my finger 
when we three had him all to ourselves,” she complained. 
Still, as it was, her manner towards him was sufficiently 
changed to attract the attention of her companions. Mrs. 
Preble groaned in spirit as she perceived symptoms of a new 
attempt at flirtation, and Laura took her cousin directly to 
task for trying to bewitch a married man. 

“ It was bad enough to make eyes at a priest, vowed to such 
an abstraction as the Church,” she said ; “ but to manoeuvre 
around a man who belongs to another woman is a little too 
bad.” 

“ Dear me what have I done ?” asked Lilian, innocently. 

“ It isn’t so much what you have done, as what you have 
it in your mind to do,” answered Laura. “ I know you, 
miss,” she continued, laughingly. “ I haven’t studied you 
so long for nothing. What a piece of work you made yester- 


A RUSH UPON “ THE ACADIAN.” 


167 


day, getting him to try on that crimson fez ! He didn’t want 
to take it, notwithstanding all your compliments. And, really, 
I don’t see of what use it can be to him. He doesn’t smoke, 
you know.” 

“ Never mind. He looked quite killing in it, and he’ll 
soon find out how becoming it is, and be duly grateful for the 
gift.” 

“ Well, I may as well tell you that mother says she will go 
away from here if you don’t let him alone. She worried 
over what Mrs. Turner told her about your having influenced 
Mary to join the Catholics ; and she says if you add a flirta- 
tion with a married man to that story, before we know it the 
people will drum us out of town.” 

“ Oh, bother the people ! Just as though a girl never 
spoke to a married man before !” 

“ I know there is enough of such work in other parts of 
the world, but I don’t believe they would take kindly to such 
doings in this little primitive village.” 

“ Nonsense ! I presume there is many a queer affair going 
on in those great square houses up the street. Human nature 
is the same everywhere.” 

“ I advise you not to talk in that way before mother. She 
would think you were a hopeless case,” said Laura, coldly, as 
she rose to leave her cousin’s room. 

It was a curious feature of the relation between these two 
girls that Lilian, though fully conscious of Laura’s disappro- 
bation, never attempted to conceal from her any of her daring 
sentiments or her correspondingly lawless actions. In Mrs. 
Preble’s company she was reserved and often hypocritical ; 
she even owned to some dread of Sarah’s severely searching 
glances ; but with Laura she felt all the charm of perfect con- 
fidence, even when she was sure of encountering determined 
opposition. She had full faith in her cousin’s loyalty to their 
long friendship, and perhaps she recognized also the certainty 
that Laura would always keep her secrets and hide her es- 
capades as much as possible, in order to shield her mother 
from annoyance. 

u It is all Horace’s fault,” she sighed, after Laura’s de- 
parture. “If he would come forward properly, all this 
coquetry would cease on my part.” 

Nevertheless, Laura’s warning was forgotten, or totally 


168 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL. 


disregarded, when the next afternoon the whole household, 
excepting Mrs. Preble and Mrs. Turner, started off for a walk 
to the light-house. It was a rather incongruous party, but 
the pleasant weather and the gentle exercise did much to 
harmonize discordant elements. 

Laura and Sarah made themselves as agreeable as possible 
to the married ladies, the husbands undertook the difficult 
task of keeping the children from tumbling over the rocky 
bank, and Lilian and Miss Kitty, keeping far in advance of 
the rest, vied with each other in lavishing attentions upon 
Mr. Leering, who walked contentedly between the two girls, 
with smiles for each and pleasantries for both, according to 
his usual honest fashion. But at last Miss Raymond's aunt 
called her back on some pretext, and Lilian cast about her 
at once for some device which should give Mr. Deering’s at- 
tentions the appearance of being directed exclusively to her- 
self. 

A few steps beyond them, and close to the path, was a mass 
of blackberry-bushes, woodbine, and wild roses. The rose- 
bush was full of buds and blossoms, and Lilian, springing 
forward, caught one of the blooming sprays and held it until 
her companion could open his knife and cut the thorny stem. 

“Now you must help me put it around my head,” she 
cried, pushing up her thin white veil and taking off her hat. 
“ Here, take it so, in both hands, and lay it a little above this 
short hair and around under my braids.” 

He hesitated a moment as the wreath was held out to him. 
The others were drawing nearer every moment, and he felt 
that his position would be considered ridiculous. Besides, 
this dashing city girl had, until within the last few days, 
seemed quite unapproachable, so far as he was concerned, and 
he was not one to follow up aril the opportunities presented by 
folly or caprice. But the shining head was bending before him, 
a taper finger was pointing to the right spot, just back of the 
thick row of “idiot fringe,” and, saying to himself, “Well, 
if she can stand it, I can !” he leaned forward and carefully 
arranged the rosy crown as nearly according to the instruc- 
tions as his rather clumsy hands would permit. 

“ Now don’t I look pretty ?” she asked, with well-assumed 
naivete , as she lifted her head quickly and gave him a saucy 
glance. 


A RUSH UPON “ THE ACADIAN .” 


169 


“ Of course. That’s what you did it for, wasn’t it ?” he 
answered, coolly. 

“ You don’t deserve this rose, but you shall have it,” she 
replied, reaching out for a half-opened blossom, which she 
proceeded to fasten in his button-hole. 

If he felt any natural trepidation at the close propinquity 
of so much beauty, he did not show it otherwise than by a 
slightly embarrassed manner as the others came up and re- 
lieved him from the conspicuous situation. It was plain that 
they had all been watching the scene. The gentlemen looked 
as though they would have liked to joke about it if they 
dared ; their wives appeared properly shocked, and little Miss 
Kitty was quite subdued, and made no attempt to take her 
former place beside Mr. Peering, though she ventured to 
whisper to Laura, as they all moved on, “ I just wish Mrs. 
Peering could have seen that !” 

Even when she afterwards slipped on the rocks and was 
saved from falling into the deep water by Mr. Peering throw- 
ing his strong arm around her, she did not presume to grow 
sentimental over the occasion. 

The whole party of strangers evidently fancied they had 
discovered the existence of a secret and naughty romance, and 
accepted the situation with the inward blame and outward in- 
difference which usually greet such demonstrations in social life. 

As for the two who understood the real state of the case, 
their anger and contempt may be better imagined than de- 
scribed. 

“ I don’t know Mr. Peering at all,” began Laura, as she 
and Sarah talked it over in Sarah’s room before supper. 

“ I do, then,” retorted Sarah, with some bitterness. “ He 
needn’t let himself be made such a fool of! And in his 
case it is worse than folly ; it is crime !” 

“ Now, Sarah, do be reasonable,” pleaded Laura. “ What 
was done was not so dreadful. It was the way of doing it, 
and that was Lilian’s work entirely. I saw the whole per- 
formance, and I know her like a book. She held the wreath 
out to him and bent down her head to have him put it on. 
What else could he have done ? Thrown it in her face ?” 

“ Yes,” said Sarah, “ thrown it in her face. And if a 
thorn went into each eye, so much the better. She's a 
thorn 1” 


H 


15 


170 


LAVRA , AN AMERICAN GIRL . 


“ But that isn’t the way things are done in this world,” 
laughed Laura. “ You must make some allowance for natu- 
ral gallantry and common politeness.” 

“ Well, you see what mischief it made,” persisted Sarah. 
“ Every one of those people believes that there is something 
between Lilian and Mr. Deering. And what a hypocrite 
they will consider him, if they go to prayer-meeting to-night 
and hear him pray and make remarks, as he almost always 
does !” 

“ Never mind that. We must all make up our minds 
to be misjudged once in a while. But don’t tell mother 
anything about it. She is worried enough already.” 

“ Don’t you think you overdo that ‘ don't tell mother' a 
little sometimes?” asked Sarah, with a sarcastic ring in her 
voice. “ It seems to me that if you would tell her more and 
make a real fuss, she would set her foot down and things 
would go differently. ” 

“ I am sorry you think so,” said Laura, her eyes filling 
with tears. “ I only know that the doctor and father both 
warned me to keep her mind as free from care as possible. 
And what she does know of Lilian’s conduct frets her very 
much. She hardly slept a wink the night after Mary ran 
away. Besides, Mr. Deering is going to Portland to-morrow; 
I heard him say so ; and that will break up all this nonsense, 
for the time at least.” 

“ Well, you know best,” replied. Sarah ; “ but when I see 
people act so like ninnies it makes me ache to get hold of 
them ! Don’t mind it, Laura : I’m sorry I said anything. 
You have a hard enough time to keep the peace all round.” 

It rained the rest of the week, and, as the strangers left 
together at the close of it, the walk to the light-house was 
really the most exciting event of their stay, and its slightly 
piquant incidents would probably be treasured up as the 
essence of their experiences at Castine. 

When at last the skies cleared and the July sun made 
haste to dry up the abundant moisture, our party walked 
forth with a new sense of the blessedness of the silence and 
seclusion of an unfrequented watering-place. 

“ After all, the steamboats do some good,” said Laura. “ If 
they don’t bring pleasant people here, they at least take dis- 
agreeable ones away. What a relief it was to see all those 


A CONFESSION, . 


171 


excursion-boats starting off with full loads on the Fourth, 
instead of bringing a crowd to celebrate here I Just think 
of a Fourth of July without even a fire-cracker 1 I’m afraid 
we don’t sufficiently appreciate our mercies.” 


CHAPTER XXL 

A CONFESSION. 

Meanwhile, Lilian was consoled for Mr. Deering’s pro- 
longed absence by letters from Mount Desert which announced 
the expected arrival of Horace Grinnell and the probability 
of his visiting Castine soon after his return. 

With this delightful prospect in view she could well afford 
to rest on her oars for a few days before beginning a serious 
race for life after the man who had eluded her fascinations so 
many years. 

Accordingly, she settled down into calmness and good 
humor, and came out so strong in agreeable traits that Mrs. 
Preble’s hostility was quite disarmed, and even Sarah was 
ready to forgive all but the forced flirtation over the roses. 

To complete the general prosperity, Mrs. Turner now re- 
joiced in the possession of two “ real treasures,” in the per- 
sons of a cook and a chambermaid, both of purely American 
ancestry, whom Brooksville and the Neck had hitherto nour- 
ished and trained, as though for this special emergency. 
The housework was accomplished without the tramping which 
had announced Irish Mary’s coming from afar, and in their 
hours of leisure the two harmonious “ helps,” neatly attired, 
might be seen creating beauty and order in the neglected 
garden, which Mary would never have thought of touching. 

As for our friends above-stairs, their companionship was as 
pleasant as could be desired, now that Lilian’s temporary 
estrangement had ceased. She again sought the cheerful 
freedom of Mrs. Preble’s chamber, and, although she could 
not be prevailed upon to begin her painting, she condescended 
to busy herself with a strip of gorgeous ecclesiastical em- 


172 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL: 


broidery, while Mrs. Preble and Sarah sewed at the under- 
clothing and Laura worked at a set of toilet-mats intended 
as a present to the landlady on their departure. 

Nothing more was said of a desire for solitary rambles, and 
the party walked out in twos, or threes, or all together, as 
choice or convenience dictated. 

One warm and cloudless morning Lilian proposed to Laura 
that they two should take books and work and a lunch and 
spend the day in the light-house woods. 

“ I want one of our good old-fashioned talks,” said she ; 
and Laura willingly packed up her sketch-book and pencils 
and superintended the division of animal and vegetable food 
in the lunch-basket, presenting *herself ready and smiling at 
Lilian’s door while that young lady was still dawdling over 
the chaos of wools and silks in her embroidery- bag. 

“ Oh, bring it along just as it is,” cried Laura, “ and I 
will help you sort the colors after we get there. If we start 
early we shall be over that long stretch of common before the 
sun is very hot.” 

The girls did not say much during the walk. They were 
both impressed, each in her own way and degree, with the 
peaceful beauty of the scenery spread out before them, some 
feature of which was changing with every turn of the path. 

It was a luxury to breathe in silence the sweet, invigor- 
ating air, to listen to the soft plash of the in-coming tide ; 
to watch the alternate shining and fading of far-off sails as 
the vessels tacked to catch the reluctant breeze, to see the 
rocky outline of the neighboring islands repeated with minute 
distinctness in the glassy water below. 

But after they had chosen their resting-place under the 
spicy fir-trees and had settled down to the disentangling of 
Lilian’s skeins, they fell into girlish chat, which unconsciously 
to themselves borrowed somewhat of sadness from the wild 
loneliness of their surroundings. Lilian harped upon the old 
string, — her love for Horace Grinnell and her doubts of his 
sincerity, — and Laura seemed to hear in the soft whispers of 
air and water a prophecy of future discontent in her self- 
chosen solitude, a reproach for her present neglect of the 
joys which belong to youth. 

“ How much this place reminds me of ‘ Evangeline’ 1” she 
said : 


A CONFESSION. 


173 


‘'This is the forest primeval. The murmuring pines and the hemlocks, 
Bearded with moss, and in garments green, indistinct in the twilight, 
Stand like Druids of old, with voices sad and prophetic, 

Stand like harpers hoar, with beards that rest on their bosoms. 

Loud from its rocky caverns the deep-voiced neighboring ocean 
Speaks, and in accents disconsolate answers the wail of the forest.” 

“ Oh, 1 Evangeline’ !” cried Lilian. “ It gives me the blues 
only to hear the name ! Why couldn’t he have made them 
happy at last, instead of killing off that poor man the minute 
they had found each other ?” 

“ But that wouldn’t have been art,” objected Laura. “ I 
am thankful that he allowed them to meet and recognize 
each other for that one moment. In real life I’m afraid they 
would not have come together at all, or else she would have 
found him dead.” 

“ Or he would have found her married,” suggested Lilian. 

“ Mrs. Turner told us of an old legend connected with that 
steep rock over there,” said Laura, after a pause. “ They 
say that when the Baron de Castine’s son went away to live 
in France, an Indian girl who loved him came up here to 
watch the ship out of sight, and when it disappeared she 
threw herself off the rock into the sea.” 

“ I don’t wonder,” said Lilian, with emphasis. “ It is bad 
enough to be crossed in love anywhere ; but to be left behind 
forever in such a lonesome hole as this is would be rather too 
much to stand !” 

u 1 And man the hermit sighed, till woman smiled/ ” 

laughed Laura. “ I ought to be able to make a more apt 
quotation than that, but somehow those words always come 
into my head when I hear you complain of the lack of gentle- 
men’s society.” 

“ That line expresses my sentiments exactly,” replied Lilian. 
“ The woman smiled because when she came she found the 
man already there. She would have sighed as hard as he did 
if she had come first.” 

And so they talked on in calm accord, varied with playful 
strife, until the end of the long, bright morning was pro- 
claimed by the distant church-bell ringing for noon and sug- 
gesting to the two girls the discussion of the lunch-basket. 
They chose a large flat rock for their dinner-table, and ate 
at their leisure, looking out between the trees upon the blue 

15 * 


174 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL . 


water, and welcoming the first sighing of the southerly breeze 
which was coming to temper the afternoon heat. 

Their meal ended, Laura spread a shawl upon the mossy 
turf and lay down for her accustomed nap, while Lilian, whom 
no persuasion could ever induce to try to sleep after dinner, 
found a comfortable seat and forgot her own troubles for 
a while in the fascinating pages of “Roderick Hudson.” As 
she read, she glanced occasionally at her sleeping cousin, and 
almost found it in her heart to envy her the sweet modera- 
tion of temper, the gentle equipoise of harmonious traits, 
which rendered Laura lovable to others and enabled her to 
make the most of the pleasures and the least of the trials of 
every-day life. In the course of her reflections, Lilian was 
confirmed in the half-formed resolution which had led her to 
propose the walk to this lonely place. She would tell Laura 
of Horace Grinnell’s proposed visit, and thus secure before- 
hand her help in affording every facility to their interviews 
with each other during his stay. 

So, when Laura rose up, flushed and dewy-eyed, from her 
quiet slumber, Lilian met her with a roguish smile, and, hold- 
ing up an open letter, cried out, — 

“ Guess who is coming here !” 

“ I’m sure I don’t know,” replied Laura. “ Lottie Truax, 
or Gertie Van Rensselaer?” 

“Pooh, no! Yo’u think of nothing but women. Horace 
himself!” 

“ Horace? Why, I thought he was in Europe.” 

“ No, no. He came back in April, and has been in Maine 
ever so long. He is away up in the woods in the northern 
part of the State, and is coming down by and by.” 

“ Did you know that he was in this region before you de- 
cided to come with us?” asked Laura, a "light beginning to 
dawn upon her mind. 

“ Yes,” answered Lilian, with a little hesitation. “ I 
thought it was a kind of providence that you were coming 
here, and it seemed to me that you might be my good 
angel in bringing us together at last,” she added, in a coaxing 
tone. 

This speech was cunningly devised as a warning to Laura 
against trying any of her own spells upon the expected guest. 
She had seen enough of Horace’s admiration for her cousin 


A CONFESSION. 


175 


to suspect that her own interests required a stronger safe- 
guard than his changing moods and fancies, and she knew 
that Laura was too high-minded to encourage attentions from 
him so long as there appeared to be any foundation for her 
claims upon his affection. 

“ You are not offended because I wanted to come here to 
meet him, are you?” asked Lilian, watching Laura’s face, 
which looked rather grave. 

“ Offended ? Oh, no. Of course it is a slight blow to my 
vanity. I flattered myself that you wanted to be with me, — 
with us. And yet I could not help seeing that you were 
often dreadfully bored with our society, and I wondered why 
you did not give it up and go away.” 

“ Well, you know now why I didn’t. I could stand any- 
thing with such a prospect in view,” said Lilian, overlooking 
the rudeness of her speech in her eagerness to exemplify the 
depth and constancy of her love. 

“ Allow me to say, then,” replied Laura, piqued at this cool 
remark, “ that, since you have made use of us only as means 
to an end, I think you might at least have been more careful 
about your behavior during the interval of waiting. You 
have worried mother extremely, and it is only within the last 
few days that you have treated Sarah decently.” 

“ Aunt Lucy is too particular. She winces at the least 
thing. As for Sarah Davis, I never could bear her ; and it 
isn’t likely that I shoald admire her any more for being 
shut up in the same house with her, week in and week out, 
and her little black beads of eyes watching every step I 
take.” 

“ She is used to keeping track of naughty girls. But 
really, Lilian, I don’t see how you can reconcile your recent 
attempts at flirtation with a sincere love for Horace Grinnell.” 

“ Gracious ! If you call that flirting, I rather think you 
would open your eyes at a good many things girls do nowa- 
days ! Why, that was just nothing at all, — merely a slight 
study of masculine character under a rather different form 
from the specimens I have been accustomed to , — c pour 
passer le temps,' you know.” 

“ I declare, Lilian,” cried Laura, looking at her with a 
searching glance before which the other’s eyes fell and her 
cheeks crimsoned, “ I sometimes think you are worse than I 


176 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL. 


suppose you to be ! You talk once in a while as though you 
had no principle at all in these matters. You seem to have 
gone on at a great rate within the last few years. One would 
think that five years in Europe would have destroyed all my 
freshness and made me a complete woman of the world ; but, 
instead of that, I have come back with the same ideas I car- 
ried away, and it is you and the rest of the stay-at-homes that 
have grown so knowing.” 

“ That is not at all strange,” replied Lilian. “ You were 
shut up most of the time in poky German families, or in 
great lonesome Italian villas, plodding away at the languages 
and singing. Of course I know you travelled about, and saw 
all the great cities, and made acquaintances enough ; but you 
never had one good swing into gay society all the time you 
were there. You ignored the American colony in Paris, for 
instance ; and that is the circle to get into in order to know 
what is going on in high life. Now, I was only six mouths 
abroad, but I had more fun than you would have if you were 
to live in Europe a hundred years ! Do you suppose you 
would catch me staying in Nuremberg with Munich so close 
by, or in Normandy when I might be in Paris, or up at 
Bellosguardo when I could just as well be down in Florence? 
Why, we girls at home kept up with the times a great deal 
better than you did, with all your opportunities !” 

“Well, we won’t talk about it, for we never shall agree 
on such matters,” said Laura, to whom the mention of all 
those foreign abiding-places awakened memories so pleasant 
as to be almost painful. “ Just listen to the waves booming 
against the rocks below ! Isn’t it glorious ? It seems a pity 
that such grand music should be wasted the greater part of 
the time. I wish the dog were here ! I should enjoy a good 
scamper with him over the common. I suppose he stays down 
at the wharf and on the vessels all he can in summer, because 
he knows he must settle down on land in the winter.” 

The rest of the afternoon was spent by Laura in sketching, 
while Lilian roamed idly up and down among the trees, 
now and then pausing to watch the progress of the drawing, 
or to gaze upon the misty outline of Mount Desert, which 
had become so closely associated with her dreams of happi- 
ness. 


“HAIL TO THE CHIEF . 11 


m 


CHAPTER XXII. 

“HAIL to the chief.” 

It was supper-time, and Mrs. Preble and Sarah were al- 
ready in the dining-room, when the girls returned. 

“ You’ll have to excuse my rough hair. I washed my 
hands at the light-house spring,” said Laura, as she took 
her place at the table. “ I feel so tired with that long walk 
in the sun that I don’t want to go up-stairs till after tea. 
Then this child is going to take a bath and go straight to 
bed.” 

“ Oh, don’t !” said her mother. “ If you go to bed so early 
you will be tired out before morning.” 

“ Well, perhaps I shan’t go to bed right away. But I 
shall wander about in my night-gown with my hair down, 
and have a good time all alone up there.” 

“ Don’t flatter yourself that you are going to be all alone,” 
cried Lilian, who was sufficiently fatigued to be tempted by 
the picture. “ I shall undress and wander about too.” 

“ So much the better,” replied Laura. “We can talk and 
keep each other awake until it is time to go to sleep.” 

“ Why don’t you just wash your faces and brush your 
hair and come down into the garden til! bedtime ?” suggested 
Mrs. Preble. “ It would rest you quite as much, and you 
would sleep better afterwards. Here it is only a quarter 
past seven o’clock now !” 

“ Yes,” chimed in Sarah, “ and the stage isn’t in yet. 
Who knows but there may be some great arrival which you 
would be sorry to miss ?” 

“ I’ll risk it,” said Laura. “ And, mammy, I’m too tired. 
I must lie down awhile. And it will be such hard work to 
undress afterwards. I’d rather take a bath and get ready for 
bed at once.” 

“Very well; do as you like,” said her mother, as she 
turned into the garden, followed by Sarah, while Laura and 
Lilian picked up their shawls and baskets and wearily 
mounted the stairs. 

m 


178 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL. 


“ I’ll come over to your room after I’ve had my bath,” said 
Lilian.. “ You can get into bed, and I’ll put on my wrapper 
over my night-gown, and bring a blanket and lie on the sofa.”’ 

Lilian felt rather proud of her determination to spend the 
eveniug en deshabille up-stairs. To tell the truth, Sarah’s 
suggestion about the stage had nearly induced her to give up 
the plan. She knew that Horace Grinned could not come 
by that conveyance, but some other interesting man might ; 
and a long moonlight evening with a fascinating stranger, 
Laura, moreover, being out of the way, was a chance not to 
be refused. But she could not help admiring Laura’s indif- 
ference to any such possibility, and for the moment she was 
seized with a desire to imitate her cousin’s singleness of pur- 
pose. “ Horace is coming pretty soon ; what do I care 
whether anybody else comes or not?” she said to herself. 
“ Why can’t I be careless and comfortable, and let things 
come round in their own way, as Laura does ? I’ll try how 
it will seem to be free and unconcerned.” 

So she resisted the temptation, and felt as though she had 
laid away all worldly cares with her dusty clothing and was 
free henceforth from the bondage of ulterior motives and 
selfish plans. 

The two girls were a pretty sight, enjoying their siesta in 
their night-gowns, — if anybody had been there to see. Laura 
lay at full length upon the white bed, her yellow, curling hair 
spread loose upon the pillow, and a shawl thrown over her to 
keep her feet warm. The soft, lace-edged ruffles at her neck 
seemed to blend into the white of her throat and the pale 
rose of her cheek, and her blue eyes looked like stars as she 
watched through the open windows the changing glories of 
the sunset sky. 

Lilian had piled up the sofa-cushions behind her, in readi- 
ness for her head when sleep should overcome her, and was 
meantime half sitting, half reclining in a luxurious attitude 
which suited well with her warm brunette complexion and 
dark, slumberous eyes. Her hair (that is, her own hair, 
for the mass of puffs and braids which adorned her head by 
day were now lying in their box on her bureau) hung down 
behind in one braid of moderate thickness, and her “ idiot 
fringe” and her ear-locks were done up in rolls which made 
her resemble in some degree an Egyptian statue. Cleopatra 


“HAIL TO THE CHIEF .' 1 


179 


may have looked like her, if she followed the stiff fashion of 
her race and time in the matter of coiffure, — which she prob- 
ably didn’t, to judge from the dishevelled state in which 
modern painters and sculptors represent her. 

The crimson hues faded from the sky, the murmur of con- 
versation died away, and the full moon rose unheeded and 
looked in upon the sleeping girls. 

“ Here they are !” said Mrs. Preble, in a low voice, as she 
opened the door. “ I thought they were in Lilian’s room.” 

The sound was enough to waken Laura, who was always a 
light sleeper, and she turned her head to see who was ap- 
proaching. 

“ Oh, it is you,” she cried, sitting up in bed. “ What 
glorious moonlight !” 

“ Yes,” answered her mother, “ and now you will be as 
wide awake as an owl all the rest of the night. However, it 
is just as well, for if you were sleepy you couldn’t appreciate 
the news I have to tell you.” 

“ What news ?” asked Laura, full of curiosity. “ Lilian, 
wake up ! something has happened ! — It seems a pity to waken 
her ; but she will have to go to her own room by and by, so 
it won’t make any difference. — Lilian ! Ho you hear ? Great 
news !” 

Lilian moved lazily and looked at Laura for several seconds 
before she appeared to know where she was and what was 
going on. Then she yawned, threw her arms up over her 
head, and finally sat upright on the lounge. 

“ Now we’re all right,” said Laura, who had watched the 
process impatiently. “ Go ahead, mother.” 

“ Well, somebody’s come, that’s all.” 

u Indeed ! Really and truly ? Anybody we know ?” 
asked Laura, remembering what Lilian had said about 
Horace. 

“ No, you don’t know him, either of you ; but he has 
brought a letter to Lilian from her mother. He has been 
staying in the same house with her, at the Cove.” 

“ Oh, ‘ land of liberty’ ! You don’t mean to say that that 
sanop has come here !” exclaimed Lilian, now thoroughly 
aroused. 

“ Why, what do you know about him?” asked Mrs. Preble, 
in a tone of surprise. 


180 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL. 


11 Oh, mother wrote me about him long ago, and wanted me 
to come down there. She had taken a great fancy to him. 
But I wasu’t quite so green as to go all that distance to see a 
little red-headed Methodist minister.” 

“ Red-headed Methodist minister !” repeated Mrs. Preble, 
in bewilderment. “ We cannot be talking about the same 
person, I’m sure.” 

“ Your mother didn’t say so,” interposed Laura. “ That 
was a fancy of your own.” 

“ Yes, now I think of it, it was,” acknowledged Lilian. 
“ But I knew he was just what I should detest, if mother was 
enraptured with him, for our tastes in such things are as op- 
posite as the poles.” 

Hereupon Sarah Davis burst into a violent and prolonged 
fit of laughter, in which Mrs. Preble joined to a moderate 
degree, the two girls looking on in perplexity. 

“ I know !” cried Laura. “ It is all a hoax, Lilian. No- 
body came to-night at all. They only want to plague us 
because we wouldn’t go into the garden with them.” 

“ But they say the man has brought a letter for me.” 

“ Oh, it is easy enough to say that. Mother is a great 
romancer when she once begins. They wanted to get up a 
plausible story, you know.” 

“Well, I am sure it is either nobody at all, or else some 
greenhorn whom we wouldn’t condescend to look at,” re- 
sponded Lilian. “ So I’m not going to worry myself any 
more about it.” 

At each new remark Sarah broke out into a fresh fit of 
laughter, and she finally ran into her room and shut the door, 
while Lilian, who cared very little for the joke, whatever it 
might be, gathered up her wrappings and went off to bed, 
leaving Laura to question her mother at her leisure. 

“ Did anybody really come ?” asked Laura, when they were 
alone. 

“ You will see in the morning,” replied her mother, with a 
mischievous smile. “ I don’t want to talk any more now, or 
I shall be too nervous to sleep.” 

Laura stayed awake a good part of the night, as her mother 
had prophesied she would, after that long nap in the evening. 
And it was a hard task to lie perfectly still, for fear of disturb- 
ing her mother, when she felt so full of life after her refresh- 


GETTING ACQUAINTED. 


181 


ing rest. She would have liked to slip out of bed and sit at 
the window and gaze upon the moonlit bay ; but the blinds 
were closed to keep out the light, and so she was obliged to 
be patient and count the hours as they were tolled out by the 
church-bell and repeated by the brisk strokes of the clock 
down-stairs, until at last drowsiness fell upon her senses and 
she slept through the morning twilight. 

Lilian fared no better, excepting that she had a whole bed 
to toss about in and nobody to suffer from her uneasy move- 
ments. It was certain that somebody had come and had 
succeeded to the priest’s empty chamber. And that it was a 
man she knew, for she had heard him take off his boots, and 
he indulged now and then in a low whistle, as he made his 
preparations for bed. She felt a new grudge against him for 
occupying that room, which she had mentally appropriated for 
Horace Grinnell, and she was cross because he made so much 
noise and prevented her falling asleep again. She might have 
sat at the window and enjoyed the scenery as long as she 
liked, but, beyond one look when she went to close the 
blinds, she had given no heed to the magnificent spectacle. 

“ It is a doleful hole,” was her comment upon the lonely 
splendor of the view, as she made haste to shut out moon 
and stars and go to bed by the light of her candle. 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

GETTING ACQUAINTED. 

The next morning Laura was up bright and early, and, 
according to her usual custom, she went down into the garden 
to enjoy the fresh air before breakfast. The mystery of the 
previous evening was not in her mind at all as she gazed upon 
the familiar view. She was thinking of her father, whose 
daily message would soon arrive, and of the probable chance 
of crossing over to High Head, now that the bay was so quiet ; 
and so her surprise was complete when she saw a stranger, 
a young and handsome man, coming down the walk directly 
towards her. 


16 


182 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL. 


They both said “ good- morning” at the same instant, and 
he added, with a smile, — 

“ Are you Miss Thorne?” 

“ No, I am Laura Preble. Miss Thorne is my cousin. You 
will see her presently.” 

“ My name is Cleaveland,” he continued. “ I have a letter 
for Miss Thorne from her mother. I should have given it to 
Mrs. Preble last evening when I had the pleasure of making 
her acquaintance here in the garden, but Mrs. Thorne charged 
me to deliver it into her daughter’s own hand, and, though 
there is no reason for fulfilling the commission so literally, I 
naturally feel obliged to do so. I saw you just now from my 
window, and, thinking you might be Miss Thorne, and that if 
you were you would not thank me for delaying to give you 
the letter, I hurried down to meet you.” 

“ You can give it to my cousin at breakfast,” said Laura, 
and then added, with a mischievous smile, — 

“ I little thought when I last saw you that I should meet 
you here !” 

“ Saw me last ! What do you mean ?” exclaimed the gen- 
tleman. 

Laura laughed. 

“ 1 Happy to meet : sorry to part : happy to meet again !’ ” 
she said, demurely. 

He started. “ Was it you? But no. Those ladies signed 
their names to that sentiment. Do tell me when and where 
you saw me last !” he added, in a persuasive tone. 

“ Oh, it was there and then,” she answered, gayly. “ My 
cousin Lilian (Miss Thorne) and I sat just opposite you and 
your party, and we witnessed the whole process of concocting 
that farewell message.” 

“ You don’t mean to tell me that I travelled for hours so 
near to you as I am now and never saw you ?” 

“ Why not? You had no eyes for anybody but your own 
party, and you ought not to have had. It is all right. But 
tell me, is not this the loveliest spot you ever saw in your life ?” 

“ Indeed it is,” he exclaimed, with earnestness. “ I sat up 
nearly all night, tired as I was ; and the scenery is quite as 
beautiful by sunlight. And if the general view is so glorious, 
what must it be to one who knows every feature intimately, 
as I suppose you do !” 


GETTING ACQUAINTED. 


183 


“ Not so well as I hope to before I leave it. But I love the 
place dearly,” she answered, as she moved slowly up the path 
towards the house. He walked by her side, and they entered 
the dining-room together, to the great delight of Sarah, who 
had just come down and was glad that Laura should have the 
first look at the attractive stranger. 

Mrs. Preble soon joined the party, and the bell was rung at 
the usual time, but no Lilian appeared. “ We must sit down 
without her, or the cakes will be cold,” said Mrs. Preble. u I 
suppose she stayed awake last night after sleeping so long in 
the evening, and so has overslept herself this morning.” 

Breakfast was a merry meal on this occasion. It was almost 
as good as having Mr. Peering there, Sarah thought. Mr. 
Cleaveland lingered a reasonable time after the meal was ended, 
and then, looking at his watch, excused himself, saying that 
he had letters which it was important to send by the first 
mail. 

“ Miss Thorne’s letter is really a burden on my conscience,” 
he said, laughingly. “ Wouldn’t it be better for me to leave 
it with you ? I may be drowned, or run over, or something, 
before I come back.” 

“ No, no ; keep it with you,” replied Mrs. Preble. u My 
niece cannot feel the want of it while she is asleep, and she 
will see you at dinner, if not before.” 

“ Now, Laura,” said Sarah, as soon as the stranger was out 
of hearing, “ you see what made me laugh so hard last night.” 

“ Yes,” replied Laura. “ I don’t wonder that you laughed. 
The contrast between Lilian’s description and the reality was 
very funny. He is as handsome as a picture !” 

“ I hope I shall be present when Lilian meets him,” con- 
tinued Sarah. “ I wonder how she will look ?” 

“ It is so pleasant this morning, I think I shall take a quiet 
walk by myself,” said Mrs. Preble. u I will call for the letters 
on my way home.” 

“ I wish you would, mother,” said Laura, “ for I don’t want 
to. Mr. Cleaveland said he was going to the post-office, and 
if I were to follow him he might think I had done it on 
purpose.” 

Mrs. Preble smiled to hear her own scruples for Laura so 
frankly stated by the young lady herself, and, as she went up- 
stairs to put on her things, she said, mentally, — 


184 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL . 


“ What a blessing it is to have a daughter with some sense 
of propriety of her own I” 

Laura and Sarah followed, and sat down to their usual morn- 
ing occupations, which on this occasion were to be enlivened 
by a new subject of discourse. 

After a time the door opened, and Lilian appeared. 

“ Well, lazy-bones,” cried Laura, “ are you up for all day? 
Have you had your breakfast ? Have you seen the new ar- 
rival ?” 

“ No, but I heard him enough last night,” said Lilian, 
crossly, answering only the last of the inquiries. “ What pos- 
sessed Mrs. Turner to go and stick him into that room, 1 won- 
der, when there are dozens of others empty ? I see plainly 
he is going to be a nuisance.” 

Laura and Sarah joined in a hearty laugh. 

“ Where is my letter, I should like to know ?” cried Lilian, 
savagely. 

“ Don’t blame him for the delay,” said Laura. “ He ran 
down into the garden before breakfast to give it to you. 
That is where I saw him first. And he waited ever so long 
in the dining-room, but you didn’t come. He was obliged to 
go to the office with some letters of his own. You will see 
him at dinner.” 

“ Why couldn’t the fool give the letter to one of you ?” 

“ Because your mother told him expressly to give it into 
your own hand. I think she must have written something 
very bad about us !” 

“ Pooh ! it is only an excuse to get acquainted with me. 
I presume mother has put it into his head to try to make 
himself agreeable.” 

The more she talked, the harder Laura and Sarah laughed. 
Lilian did not mind Laura’s merriment so much, but it ex- 
asperated her to see Sarah making so much of the silly 
mystery about the stranger, and so, taking advantage of 
Laura’s momentary absence from the room, she said sharply 
to Sarah, who was still smiling over her sewing, — 

“ I really don’t see the sense of this everlasting giggling. 
I hope the next time Aunt Lucy comes here she will bring a 
lady with her !” 

“ So do I,” retorted Sarah ; “ and then there’ll be four of 


GETTING ACQUAINTED. 


185 


“ Thank you, she didn’t bring me. I paid my own way,” 
said Lilian, scornfully. 

“ Well, that is a pretty speech I” exclaimed Laura, who had 
entered unobserved. 

“ Isn’t it ?” cried Sarah. “ That shows how much Lilian 
thinks of filthy lucre. Now, you and I know that, so far as 
the money is concerned, Aunt Lucy will never feel the ex- 
pense of my being here ; not but that I am duly grateful for 
that part of the favor, for she is under no obligation to share 
her wealth with me. But the real kindness was in allowing 
me to be her companion for so long a time, running all the 
risk of finding me sickly, or nervous, or disagreeable in 
various ways, when she is out of health herself and needs to 
be made as comfortable as possible.” 

“ Never mind, Sarah,” replied Laura. “ You know very 
well that mother and I consider it a great pleasure to have 
you with us ; and I’m sure Lilian did not mean to hurt your 
feelings.” 

“ It is not in Miss Thorne’s power to hurt my feelings,” 
said Sarah, in a sarcastic tone. “ But I shall take this 
opportunity to give her a little piece of my mind upon the 
subject. 

“ / am above all your taunts on the money question,” she 
added, turning sharply to Lilian, “ but you can influence a 
great many persons for evil by being insolent, because you are 
rich. How you can reconcile such worldliness with your 
religious professions, I can’t conceive : however, that is your 
own affair. But I can tell you it is you, and others like you, 
that are doing more to ruin this republic than all the other 
evils we suffer from combined. You are sinfully extravagant 
in your dress and your way of living ; you are as vain as a 
peacock ; you waste your time fearfully ; you won’t turn 
over your hand to do anything useful ; you put on grand airs 
when you speak to the help, — servants , you call them ; you 
look down on everybody that is poor and has to work for a 
living, and you look up to everybody that is richer than you 
are, especially anybody that comes from a foreign land and 
has a title. Such actions are ridiculous enough in people 
who have been rich and influential for generations ; but in 
your case it is the height of absurdity ; for your father was 
a poor man when he married your mother, and she was a 

16 * 


186 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL. 


factory -girl. Not that that is any discredit to either of them, 
but you think it is.” 

“ W ell, is your sermon end^d ?” asked Lilian, with a 
sneer, as Sarah paused. “ Because, if it is, I think I should 
prefer the solitude of my own room.” 

“ You are quite welcome to seek it, so far as I am con- 
cerned,” replied Sarah, in the same tone. “ Only don’t begin 
any more of your impertinence about money to me. If you 
do, you’ll get another dose, and maybe next time you’ll have 
to swallow it before folks, which you wouldn’t like so well.” 

Lilian left the room with a scowl on her brow and a look 
of hate in her handsome eyes, and the first object upon which 
her glance rested was a man, a stranger, who had just 
reached the head of the stairs. He hesitated an instant, as 
though he had noticed the expression of her face and was 
uncertain whether she would wish to be spoken to, then came 
forward with an air of not having observed anything, and 
said, “ You must be Miss Thorne. I have made several mis- 
takes already, looking for her.” 

“ Yes, I am Miss Thorne,” replied Lilian, hastening to 
smooth her countenance and call up a smile. 

“ Then I will not delay any longer to surrender your 
property. I should not have kept it so long, but your 
mother requested me to deliver it only to yourself.” 

“ Thanks,” said Lilian, holding out her hand for the 
letter. She was so completely astonished at the personal 
appearance of the stranger that not one of the pretty speeches 
of which she usually had an abundance for such occasions 
came to her mind, and he on his part made no further 
attempt at conversation, but, bowing, hat in hand, passed on 
to his room. 

Lilian locked her door and flung herself down into the 
arm-chair. 

“ Well !” she exclaimed, drawing a long breath. “ So that 
is what all the grinning and giggling meant ! I don’t wonder. 
I have been making a pretty fool of myself all this time, it 
seems. And I might have spent six weeks in the same house 
with that splendid fellow, instead of moping up here, waiting 
in vain for that aggravating Horace Grinnell ! 

“ Let me see what mother says. She is to blame, after all. 
Why couldn’t she have sent me his photograph, or told me 


GETTING ACQUAINTED. 


187 


more about his .looks and ways, instead of rhapsodizing over 
his being so good to her, and her wanting him for a son-in- 
law ? She might have known I couldn’t get any idea of 
what he was from such stuff as that.” 

She tore open the letter, and read as follows : 

“ Dear Lilian, — I am so glad Mr. Cleaveland is going 
up to Maine. He says he will visit Castine if possible. If 
he don’t come he will mail this letter, so you will be sure to 
get it. I am so disappointed that you wouldn’t come here 
and get acquainted with Mr. Cleaveland. I am sure you 
would like him. He is really Dr. Cleaveland, but he prefers 
to be called J/r., because he has never practised medicine, 
only studied and graduated. He is an artist, too. He paints 
landscapes beautifully, and figures, too. He will probably be 
an artist after this, for his health is delicate. He studied too 
hard, and tired himself out in the hospitals. He has been to 
Europe several times. I don’t see that there is anything 
about him for you to find fault with. He is a splendid 
fellow ; and he is just as elegant as he can be. I have found 
out that he has enough money to live on, but I don’t know 
whether he is very rich or not. He must be pretty well off 
to stay abroad so long and go about doing nothing. His 
mother is dead : so there won’t be any mother-in-law in the 
way. And his father died when he was very young, and he 
was the only child : so he is perfectly independent. He was 
miserable when he came here, but the bathing did him ever 
so much good. There was nothing the matter, only over- 
work. I was afraid all the time he would go away, because 
it was so dull. For three weeks there wasn’t a single young 
lady in the house, and all the time there wasn’t one that could 
hold a candle to you. But he said he liked the quiet, and so 
he has stayed all this time. Now, if he comes to Castine, 
you mind what you are about, and don’t let Laura and her 
mother take up all his attention. 

“ If you want any more dresses, or anything else to fix up 
with, let me know, and I will send it to you. Your father is 
here every week, and I am a great deal stronger than when I 
came here. Florence will miss Mr. Cleaveland dreadfully. 
He has taught her to row, and she has begun to take an 
interest in her drawing, but I am afraid she will give it up 


188 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL . 


after he has gone. Write soon and tell me how you like Mr. 
Cleaveland. All send love. Give our love to all. 

“ Your Devoted Mother.’* 

Lilian twisted this letter into a screw, for very rage, and 
then, remembering Laura’s suggestion as to its probable con- 
tents, tore it up and threw the bits behind the fireboard. 

“ And so Miss Florence has had him to herself all this 
time, and has been trying her airs and graces to good pur- 
pose, no doubt. I wonder whether he really took a fancy to 
her. Men often do to little girls and wait till they are grown 
up and educated and then marry them. And Florence is 
going to be a beauty, there is no denying that. However, I 
flatter myself I can soon put a stop to her little game.” 

With such reflections occupying her mind, Lilian made a 
careful toilet for dinner, and was well pleased to find, on en- 
tering the dining-room rather later than usual, that the other 
girls were still in their usual morning attire, Laura wearing 
her blue cambric, and Sarah her gray alpaca, which did good 
service in saving her handsome brown costume from the wear 
and tear of long walks and frequent scrambles over slippery 
rocks. 

Lilian’s first anxiety had been as to where the stranger 
would be seated at table, and she was relieved to find that his 
place was nearly opposite hers. She inwardly blessed Laura’s 
lack of scheming talent which had, on her arrival, placed her 
where she still was, beyond Sarah Davis, at the very end of 
the same side upon which Mr. Deering, and now Mr. Cleave- 
land, belonged, and where they could neither look at her nor 
talk to her without a special effort. Her own seat she consid- 
ered very wisely chosen, as it was above the middle, aud, the 
places beyond her being occupied by her own party, it fol- 
lowed that all strangers, eligible or otherwise, must be nearer 
her than them, especially as the head of the table was too 
close to the window to allow of anybody being sent there for 
Laura’s exclusive benefit. Nor was she insensible to the 
advantage of having Mrs. Preble’s pale face and slightly- 
stooping figure as a foil to her own dark and blooming beauty. 
And very few men, she reflected, would be so fastidious as to 
admire her the less because they could see her eat, especially 
when they were eating themselves. 


GETTING ACQUAINTED . 


189 


The consciousness of all these favoring circumstances made 
the dinner very agreeable to Lilian ; indeed, so well satisfied 
was she with her own good luck, and with the stranger’s ap- 
parent willingness to receive and return her glances, that she 
was only slightly annoyed on perceiving that Laura was not 
at all shy about leaning forward and taking her share in the 
lively conversation, and that Mr. Cleaveland often leaned for- 
ward too, and addressed his remarks quite as much to her as 
to his more immediate neighbors. 

“ She won’t venture to do so when Mr. Peering comes 
back to take the empty chair between Sarah and Mr. Cleave- 
land,” she said to herself. “And meantime I’ll give her 
a hint that may serve to nip the practice in the bud.” 

Accordingly, when Laura came into her room after her 
nap, Lilian began the attack, speaking in a low tone, lest she 
should be heard in the adjoining chamber. 

u Don’t talk loud,” she whispered : “ he is in his room. I 
think he must follow your fashion of sleeping after dinner, 
he keeps so still. And I heard him shut the blinds just after 
he came up-stairs. How exquisitely he eats !” she continued. 
“ He handled his bread so prettily with his fish, and never 
looked at his knife.” 

“ For my part,” said Laura, “ I think the notion of eating 
fish with only a fork and a piece of bread is perfectly absurd, 
especially when the fish is not boned. In these days of silver 
knives there is no earthly reason why a knife should not be 
used to cut up fish as well as to cut up meat. Indeed, a steel 
knife would do just as well, for after the fish is cut up the 
knife isn’t needed any more, and it is always changed with 
the fork and the plate. If people eat fish at all, I don’t see 
why they should be called upon to lose all those delicious bits 
that lie in the corner, or the brown crust that sticks to the 
backbone, just because a few snobs have made a ridiculous 
rule about knives.” 

“ Well, it shows that he is particular, at all events,” replied 
Lilian, who wanted a chance to introduce her previously-pre- 
pared rebuke. “ And I suppose we shall have to mind our 
p’s and qs , so as not to shock him. By the way, I was afraid 
he would think you not quite au fait as to table-manners, in 
talking to him across Sarah Davis. Why don’t you change 
places with her, so as to do it without transgressing any rule ?” 


190 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL. 


“ I should be transgressing a much more important rule in 
doing that,” answered Laura. “ You know very well I would 
not think of asking Sarah to change places with me. Be- 
sides, why should she ? She will talk enough as soon as she 
feels a little more at ease with him. As for talking across 
her, it was not as though she did not belong to our party, 
and she took a share in what was said, so far as looking in- 
terested and smiling go. I know it is a rule at large dinner- 
parties for people to pay attention chiefly to their nearest 
neighbors ; but in so small a company as ours the conversa- 
tion is always general.” 

“ No, not always,” persisted Lilian. “ I was once at a 
small dinner-party in London where I thought I was at lib- 
erty to join in the conversation of the couple just above me ; 
but you should have seen how they stared, aud how the rest 
of the company seemed put out at my blunder ! I made up 
my mind then that I would keep within the regulations, no 
matter how dull it might be.” 

“ Oh, London !” cried Laura, in a tone of infinite contempt. 
“ If you are going to observe all the minute laws of English 
society, you might as well put on a strait-jacket at once, 
and hand-cuffs, and a ball-and-chain, not forgetting a padlock 
for your lips. I don’t propose to put myself under any such 
bondage. You have chosen the wrong argument this time. 
I shall lean across Sarah and chatter to Mr. Cleaveland all the 
more, now that I can imagine a lot of English swells staring 
at me for doing so.” 

She looked at Lilian and smiled mischievously as she 
spoke, for she understood very well what the warning meant, 
and knew that Lilian would take the threat in sober earnest 
and be greatly troubled in consequence. 

“ As you like,” said Lilian, coldly ; “ but I should think, 
now that we have a real gentleman in the house, you would 
want to show him that you understood the customs of good 
society as well as he does.” 

“ On the contrary, if he is going to be very precise, I shall 
enjoy shocking him,” replied Laura, whose love of fun was 
thoroughly aroused by this glimpse of a new complication of 
affairs in the immediate future. 

Lilian was the first one to go down stairs when the time 


GETTING ACqUAINTED . 


191 


for walking came, and she waited on the side-walk in front of 
the house for Laura and Sarah, who had gone to speak to 
Mrs. Preble, in the garden, before starting. She was in 
hopes that Mr. Cleaveland would happen along while she 
stood there, in which case he could scarcely avoid offering his 
escort. 

But not a human being was to be seen. 

Presently she heard a slight sound above her, and, looking 
up, saw Mr. Cleaveland standing at the window of the upper 
hall. She bowed, and he bowed and smiled in return. But 
just as she was about to open a conversation which she meant 
should end in his joining her below, the steps and voices of 
the girls became audible, and, with an instinctive desire of 
making her relations with the stranger something apart from 
theirs, she lowered her eyes and moved forward a few steps. 
Laura and Sarah came out of the house the next moment, 
and by chance Laura glanced backward and saw Mr. Cleave- 
land at the window. 

“ You look lonesome up there,” she called out with a smile. 
“ Don’t you want to join us ? We are only going up to the 
fort to see the sun set.” 

“ With the greatest pleasure. But don’t let me keep you 
waiting. I will be with you in a minute.” And he disap- 
peared. 

Lilian had only time to exclaim, “ Who is running after 
young gentlemen now f” and to say to herself, “ It was be- 
cause he heard me come down-stairs that he went to the hall 
window,” when he joined them, wearing a broad-brimmed 
felt hat, slouched in a most picturesque manner, and a dark- 
gray shawl thrown carelessly over one shoulder. 

“ This seems to be a pleasant enough little town,” he re- 
marked, as they all four walked abreast up the broad, silent 
street, looking to the right and left at the square white houses 
and neatly-kept front-door yards. 

“ It is a charming place,” answered Laura, enthusiastically ; 
“ particularly to rest in. It is almost as quiet as Venice; and the 
people mind their own business and make the strangers mind 
theirs. There is nothing at all going on, and so of course we 
are not asked to take part in it. Whenever there is any good 
excuse for acquaintance, the natives are hospitable enough ; 
but when there isn’t, they go their way and we go ours. For 


192 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL , 


my part, I like to look at all these comfortable houses and 
people them out of my own imagination. I presume I 
give the inhabitants quite as much happiness as they really 
enjoy.” 

# “ ^ ou must be more cruel than I take you to be if you 
give them less,— that is, if their fate resemble that of the 
majority of mankind,” he replied, with some bitterness in his 
tone. 

“ You have no right to think me cruel at all,” she an- 
swered, gayly , giving no heed to the latter part of his sen- 
tence. “ Didn’t I take pity on you and invite you to walk ? 
You would have been moping at the hall window all this time 
if I hadn’t called you down.” 

“ Indeed, I appreciate your kindness, and am duly grate- 
ful, he answered. “ I think I must transfer the implied 
charge of. cruelty to Miss Thorne. She saw me first, and 
went on without a word and left me to perish.” 

Lilian colored and looked very sober. Instantly his jesting 
reproach became to her excited imagination a serious and in- 
tentional complaint. She had offended him at the very be- 
ginning of their acquaintance ; she had hurt his feelings when 
he was lonely and out of health. Would he ever understand 
the real reason of her hesitation at that decisive moment, ever 
know the warm interest that had sprung up in her heart at 
their first meeting ? How unfortunate that his earliest im- 
pression should be against herself and in favor of Laura ! 

She was pensive and out of spirits during the whole walk. 
Not even when they were sitting in a row on the northwest 
bastion, watching the changing hues of the sky and chatting 
at random, as they plucked the short grass or threw pebbles 
down the steep bank, did she regain her usual manner. 

Indeed, Lilian was not apt to shine in a mixed company. 
She was too much absorbed in herself, too easily made jealous 
by the superior liveliness of her girl-friends, to be generally 
entertaining. She reserved her best thoughts and her hap- 
piest sayings for some one companion of the opposite sex, and 
only reached the high-water mark of her eloquence when the 
acquaintance had taken on a degree of the mystery and per- 
sonal sensibility which belong to nascent love. And Lilian 
had reached this stage of feeling many times. So accustomed 
had she become to the mental and physical excitement of “ a 


GETTING ACQUAINTED. 


193 


desperate flirtation,” that it may be doubted whether she was 
any longer capable of a sound, disinterested friendship for a 
young man. Every youth who approached her with a desire 
to know what kind of intellect and heart belonged to so at- 
tractive an exterior was expected to render devoted and ex- 
clusive homage from the outset, and to be willing to accept 
the chance of speedy dismissal or gradual neglect, with small 
hope of ultimate success. For, guarded as she was by her 
long-standing preference for Horace Grinnell, she was apt to 
cool in her fancies whenever he chose to assert a claim to her 
notice ; moreover, much experience was making her biases in 
affairs of the heart. She differed from an ordinary coquette 
only in being herself susceptible, so that she really felt for the 
moment the attraction she wished another to feel, and suffered 
in the beginning the torments of doubt and jealousy which her 
victims were later to undergo. 

But in her whole career she could not remember ever hav- 
ing been so deeply impressed at first sight by any of the sons 
of men as by the stranger of this day’s acquaintance. He 
was remarkably handsome, to begin with, and his hands were 
as beautiful as his face, which was a rare thing, Lilian con- 
sidered. Then, too, his movements were easy and graceful, 
his voice was well modulated, his dress unexceptionable : in a 
word, there was nothing about him which could grate upon 
the most refined taste. 

And she might have known him six weeks before, and had 
him all to herself, with mamma to remove hinderances, and no 
pretty Laura or hostile Sarah to divide attention or cause 
misunderstanding ! 

Now, thanks to Sarah’s lecture, his first glimpse of her 
bad been with a scowl on her face, and, thanks to Laura’s 
free-and-easy ways, he had called her cruel because she could 
not invite him in an off-hand manner, as her cousin did. Her 
heart ached with a feeling akin to homesickness as she 
thought of the Cove, with its woodland walks and pebbly 
beach, which before she had so foolishly despised, and she 
found a new meaning in the lines she had often quoted with 
only a half-knowledge of their truth : 

u Of all sad words of tongue or pen, 

The saddest are these, It might have been V* 

After supper, as they were enjoying the moonlight in tne 
in 17 


194 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL. 


garden, Laura suddenly said, “ Lilian, does Mr. Cleaveland 
remind you of anybody ?” 

Lilian was glad of an excuse for taking a good long look 
at the handsome stranger, who unconsciously put on the stolid 
expression we all wear when people are gazing at us on pur- 
pose. 

“ Yes,” she answered, slowly ; “ but I can’t think who it is. 
His face is wonderfully familiar : it really seems as though I 
must have seen him before. Perhaps Gerty Van Rensselaer 
has his photograph. — Do you know Miss Van Rensselaer ?” 
she asked. 

“ I have not the pleasure of her acquaintance,” he answered. 

u She makes every spleudid-looking gentleman she knows 
give her his photograph. She has quite a large collection 
now,” continued Lilian. 

“ Oh, dear me !” cried Laura, mockingly, “ then you needn’t 
look for Mr. Cleaveland there !” 

He laughed, and nodded at her approvingly for coming to 
the rescue. 

“ You’ve made a mistake this time, Miss Laura,” said 
Lilian to herself. “ Every man likes to be told that he is 
handsome ; and this one’s beauty is so remarkable that he 
must consider it an evidence of poor taste to call it in ques- 
tion.” 

Then she said aloud, “ Indeed, I think that would be the 
very place to look for it. Gerty has made the subject a study 
for several years, and so her eye is thoroughly cultivated. She 
wouldn’t take Ned Macy’s picture, although he is her cousin 
and a great favorite, because his mouth is too straight ; it 
hasn’t any ‘ love-thought’ in it.” 

“ ‘ Love-thought’ ! What is that, pray ?” asked Laura, 
with a merry laugh. 

“ It is when the lips end off with a little curve, almost 
like a dimple, instead of merely stopping short.” 

“ And have all the men in her album such love-thoughts 
in the corners of their mouths ?” asked Laura. 

“ Well, a good many of them wear heavy moustaches and 
full beards, so it isn’t easy to tell. But that shows how fas- 
tidious she is.” 

“Just think a minute, Lilian,” said Laura, who did not 
<?are to pursue the subject further. “ Don’t you remember 


GETTING ACQUAINTED . 195 

Mr. Cleaveland ? And the ‘ happy to meet ,’ you know ?” she 
added, significantly. 

“ ‘ Happy to meet’ ?” repeated Lilian, bewildered. 

“ Why, have you forgotten the English party we saw in 
the cars, coming here ? and the Scotch girl with the Stuart 
plaid and the heavy jewelry ?” 

“ Oh, now I know 1” cried Lilian. “ Yes, of course, that 
is what it is ! I remember Mr. Cleaveland perfectly. And I 
remember the young ladies too. But I had forgotten what it 
was they wrote on that book.” 

“ I don’t mind your forgetting all about them and what 
they did,” said Mr. Cleaveland, with mock solemnity. “ But 
that you could have so totally forgotten me is one of the 
severest shocks I have ever received. It adds the last drop 
to the cup of my woe, which I thought was full enough this 
afternoon when you started off to walk without me. I might 
hope to overcome a violent hatred founded upon prejudice, 
but I cannot expect to make any headway against such utter 
indifference as you have displayed.” 

Lilian colored and cast down her eyes without attempting 
to reply, and Laura, who knew how she was feeling and 
feared she might betray something quite the opposite of in- 
difference, hastened to give the conversation a new turn. 

“ Do tell us who those girls were,” she said. “ I have 
thought of them very often, and wondered where they came 
from and where they went to. The tall one was the prettiest, 
in my opinion.” 

“ Yes, she was the most attractive in every way. She and 
her cousin were English girls, and they were visiting the 
Scotch young lady in Canada. They all came over to take 
a look at 1 the States,’ and I happened to meet them in New 
Haven. They were on their way back to Toronto when you 
saw them.” 

“ Did you go to Toronto with them ?” asked Lilian, eagerly. 

“ Oh, no,” was the careless reply. “ They were so kind as 
to invite me to visit them whenever I might chance to come 
in their direction ; but I presume I shall never see them 
again.” 

“ I suppose you cut out that verse and had it framed,” pur- 
sued Lilian, who was bent upon discovering just how deep an 
impression had been made upon Mr. Cleaveland’s fancy. 


196 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL. 


“ No. But I must be sure and save it when I send the 
Atlantic to be bound,” he answered. “ That motto has a 
double significance, now that it has led to our mutual recog- 
nition.” 

“ The recognition was not mutual : don’t believe that bit 
of flattery, Lilian. He never laid eyes on us the whole time !” 
cried Laura. 

“ I meant by ‘ mutual recognition’ that we all remembered 
the circumstances of that meeting, and so it seems as though 
we had been conscious of each other’s presence. At any 
rate, I am less to blame than Miss Thorne. I am sure if I 
had seen you I could never have forgotten you !” he said, 
glancing at Lilian with a reproachful look in his brown eyes 
and a well-simulated expression of mortification in his whole 
countenance. 

“ Is he trying to make sport of Lilian ? If he is, it is 
very impertinent on so short acquaintance, and he must be 
taken down a little !” said Laura to herself. So she remarked, 
quietly, “ You are right. Nobody would be likely to forget 
my cousin who had once seen her. But I don’t much wonder 
at her forgetting you, brown travelling-suits are so common 
this year.” 

“ But you remembered me,” he answered, quickly, giving 
her a merry glance. 

“ I was afraid the train was going to start without you,” 
she answered. u And you had left your overcoat on the seat. 
But I didn’t fret any more, after I heard the English gentle- 
man say that if you didn’t come back he would throw the 
coat out of the window for you to pick up.” 

“ In that case I should have lost the precious motto which 
has become a kind of watchword to me since you repeated it 
this morning,” he replied, with gentle politeness, as though 
trying to disarm her severity by his own gallantry. 

It was now Sarah’s turn to listen and ponder. 

“ I really believe he is going to have sense enough to see 
the difference between those two girls !” she exclaimed men- 
tally, as she turned to follow the others into the house. 

It was a long time before Lilian could get to sleep. A 
profound melancholy oppressed her in consequence of the 
untoward circumstances which had thus far marked her 
acquaintance with the new-comer. It was evident that he 


GETTING ACQUAINTED. 


197 


thought it cold-hearted in her to have forgotten the encounter 
in the cars, and her shy silence on seeing him at the window 
had deepened the unfavorable impression. He had even 
taken pains to shake his head at her with a forlorn, hopeless 
look when he bade her good-night, as though the remem- 
brance of her cruelty would follow him to his lonely couch 
and haunt his very dreams. 

It was all going wrong ! Oh, if she had only gone to the 
Cove ! Poor Mrs. Thorne was amply revenged for her 
daughter’s neglect, in the agony of vain regret which that 
daughter was now suffering upon her sleepless pillow. 

Mr. Cleaveland, too, stayed awake a good while, thinking 
over the incidents of this first day in Castine. He was sure 
he had come to the right place, it was at once so beautiful 
and so quiet, and he foresaw that he should find sufficient 
amusement and edification in the society of the four ladies he 
was so fortunate as to find in the house. Lilian puzzled him 
greatly. Her dress and manners were those of a young lady 
of the fashionable world, and yet she seemed to take in dead 
earnest what almost any girl ten years old would know to be 
jest. This peculiarity aroused his love of mischief, and he 
had ventured to play upon her credulity, until brought to 
order by Laura. And, notwithstanding the check thus re- 
ceived, he had taken advantage of the disappearance of the 
others to convey in his good-night a reiteration of his 
absurd complaints, and had been highly amused to perceive 
that his lugubrious glance and despairing gesture had been 
accepted in as good faith as his previous words. What ailed 
the girl? Was she so terribly sincere and truthful as to 
be incapable of understanding a joke? Was she so inexpe- 
rienced as to believe everything a man might say to her ? 

In reality, her hesitation about inviting him to go to walk 
had not displeased him in the least. He had seen enough of 
forward girls to enable him to appreciate what he supposed to 
be a shade of reserve in Lilian’s answer to his unexpected 
greeting. Indeed, his past experience had made him im- 
patient of female advances, and he might have mistaken 
Laura’s frank invitation for unbecoming freedom, had it not 
been for something in her tone which he was sufficiently 
pure-minded to accept as a warrant of the innocent friendli- 
ness of her intentions. And Laura’s conduct throughout had 


198 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL . 


been in keeping with that first evidence of genuine simplicity 
of character. He liked the careless way in which she had 
chatted at the fort ; he liked her unstudied attitudes as she 
made herself comfortable on the grass ; it pleased him to think 
how watchful she had been of his manner towards Miss Thorne, 
and how she had not scrupled to say saucy things to him in 
defence of her cousin’s dignity. 

As for Sarah, he did riot waste many conjectures upon her. 
He thought her a sensible-looking person, old enough and 
steady enough to serve as chaperone to the two younger girls, 
whose acquaintance he was fully determined to seek in all 
the ways considered legitimate at a sea-side resort. 


CHAPTER XXIV . 

THE LIGHT-HOUSE WOODS. 

Lilian’s regrets not only prevented her sleeping until a 
late hour, but made her slumbers light when they did come, 
so that she was aroused by the first stir in the adjoining 
room. 

“ He is going out for an early walk,” she said to herself. 
“ There is a good chance to see him and explain myself.” 

She rose and dressed as rapidly as possible, rolling her hair 
into a net and putting on a turban hat, which suited best that 
simple style and at the same time covered all the deficiencies 
of so hasty a toilet. She heard Mr. Cleaveland go down- 
stairs and unfasten the front door, and, stealing in her slippers 
to the open hall window, saw him walk briskly off in the 
direction of the shore road. 

“ He is going to the light-house, I know he is,” she said. 
“ Laura raved about it so last night.” 

She returned to her room, put on her walking-boots and 
shawl, and, slipping her opera-glass and her prayer-book into 
her pocket, took her parasol and stole forth, going quietly 
down-stairs and leaving the front door ajar, so that its 
closing for a second time at that unusual hour might not arouse 
the people above. 


THE LIGHT-HOUSE WOODS . 


199 


The sky was clear, and the newly-risen sun sent long shafts 
of light between the scattered houses of the silent street. Mr. 
Cleaveland was visible walking along the open bank, and Lilian 
stopped and looked over the fence into the flower-garden of 
the last cottage until he should be out of sight among the 
trees. But the beauty and fragrance of Mrs. Freethy’s roses 
were entirely lost upon her. Her mind was in a fervor of 
longing and expectancy which the sweet ministry of nature 
had no power to quell or soothe. The flowers were to her 
merely an excuse for a delay which otherwise might be 
wondered at by curious eyes ; the dewy meadow tinted with 
mallows, buttercups, and eyebright was simply so much of 
the earth’s surface lying between her and the object of her 
search ; sea, sky, and mountains would become worthy of ad- 
miring notice only when she should retrace the path in his 
company. 

But, in spite of her absorption, she could not help being 
aware, as she went on, that the rain of two days before had 
left a puddle in every depression, while the dew of the morn- 
ing hung heavy upon the grass which bordered the narrow 
foot-way, so that not only her boots but her plaited skirt and 
the white petticoat underneath were fast becoming unfit to be 
seen. True, she held up her train with one hand, but the 
rest of the skirt was too long to escape contamination, and 
the damp flounces flapped against her ankles in a most un- 
comfortable manner. However, the narrow belt of woods 
was reached at last, and there the earth was comparatively 
dry, though the advantage proved not to be so great after all, 
as the bottom of her dress was soon fringed with pine-needles, 
bits of twigs, and scraps of moss, which hung tenaciously to 
the wet woollen cloth. She wandered about among the trees, 
looking cautiously on every side, wondering at her failure to 
discover her hero, and filled with dismay at the thought that 
perhaps he had gone on to the bluff, or down to the shore, 
whither she was too tired to follow him. 

Suddenly she heard a splash, and, looking over the rocks, 
she saw the light-house dog strike out, and a moment after- 
wards appeared the dark head and pink shoulders of a human 
swimmer. Lilian sprang back, horrified. 

“ Oh, I hope he didn’t see me !” she cried, hurrying out 
of the woods and along the muddy path, forgetting that some 


200 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL. 


time must elapse before Mr. Cleaveland would be in a condi- 
tion to follow her. 

The homeward walk was not at all what she expected it 
would be. Indeed, it nearly fulfilled all the conditions of the 
popular proverb, descriptive of desolate misery, — “ afoot and 
alone ) ’ cross lots and cryin'f for tears of vexation filled her 
eyes as she looked at her soiled clothes and thought of the 
probable meeting with her relatives, who would wonder at this 
new departure and very likely hit upon the true motive of her 
early rising. 

She was altogether wretched. The sun shone directly in 
her face, and she could not hold up her parasol, because both 
hands were needed to lift her skirts above the dewy grass. 
She felt sleepy and tired, her head ached, and, worst of all, 
she had lost the pleasure of a stroll with Mr. Cleaveland and 
the opportunity of setting herself right in his opinion. 

Suddenly it occurred to her that he would probably return 
by the way he had come, and that if she should wait she might 
still enjoy a walk and a talk with him. 

A short distance beyond her, near the path, was a mass of 
outcropping rock, shaded by a row of straggling bushes. Here 
Lilian found a seat, and, taking her prayer-book and her opera- 
glass out of her pocket, she prepared herself to look sufficiently 
occupied when Mr. Cleaveland should come by. 

At last she heard a rapid step. Her heart beat, her cheeks 
glowed. She cast down her eyes and read industriously David’s 
pious imprecations upon his enemies, until, finding that the 
footsteps did not slacken as they approached, she ventured to 
look over her shoulder at the coming man. 

Alas, it was only the light-house-keeper ! But behind him, 
and not far off, was the long-expected one, and she was thank- 
ful for the few moments of delay in which she might calm 
her quickened pulses and drive back the rebellious color 
from her cheeks. Accordingly, when Mr. Cleaveland reached 
the spot, she was able to look up with well-feigned surprise, 
and exclaim, “ Why, is it you ? Are you out already ?” while 
he, surprised in his turn, came to the rapid conclusion that Miss 
Thorne was a very early riser and was in the habit of coming 
to this lonely nook to enjoy a morning meditation. He re- 
marked her draggled skirts, and wondered anew at the seem- 
ing conti adiction between the young lady’s apparel and char- 


THE LIGHT-HOUSE WOODS. 


201 


acter. He scarcely knew whether to stop or go on ; her 
occupation implied a desire to be alone, and yet it was hardly 
polite to leave her so far from the village without offering his 
escort for the return. 

His momentary hesitation was relieved by her moving a 
little, as though to give him a place beside her. 

“ Have you been taking a long walk ?” she asked, looking 
up into his face with a well-directed flash of her dark eyes. 

“ She is not so very different from other girls,” was his 
inward comment upon the glance, as he spread his shawl 
upon the rock and sat down in the sun. 

“ I have been in swimming,” he answered, “ but the water 
was fearfully cold, and I got out of it as fast as possible. I 
had no idea it was so deep. The dog from the light-house 
went in with me ; perhaps he thought I might be taken with 
cramp and he would be there to pull me out. He is a noble 
fellow !” 

Lilian watched him as he spoke, but there was no hint of 
inconvenient knowledge in tone or manner. He had not 
seen her ; that was one comfort. 

“ Oh, nobody thinks of bathing here,” she replied, now 
fully reassured and at her ease. u I believe there is a point 
on the other side of the town where the water is more shallow 
and there is something like a beach, but there is never any 
surf. We have the water brought to the house.” 

“ That is a good idea,” said he. “ But I am interrupting 
your reading,” he continued, glancing at the velvet-covered 
prayer-book now lying neglected on her lap. 

“ Not at all,” she replied. “ I was only reading the psalm 
for the day. I suppose you are familiar with this book?” 
handing it to him as she spoke. 

“ Yes ; or rather I ought to be. My mother was an Epis- 
copalian.” 

“And what are y<£u?” 

“ Nothing. I do not belong to any church.” 

“ Oh, how sad !” exclaimed Lilian. “ Do you ever think 
that your mother may be watching you from heaven, and 
grieving because you do not follow her teachings and the 
teachings of the Church she loved so well ?” 

Lilian was now in her element. That idea of a departed 
mother watching her son was one she had aired on several 


202 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL . 


other occasions for the benefit of semi-orphaned young men, 
in one particular instance with brilliant success. The youth 
in question was soon brought to reflect that a beautiful girl- 
monitress might more than replace the lamented maternal 
guide ; but by the time that this conviction had taken full 
possession of his mind, Lilian’s interest in his welfare was 
ended, and he had the lesson to unlearn at his leisure. 

Lilian believed in being ready for emergencies. Indeed, 
her part of the conversation with gentlemen was mostly of 
the “ cut-and-dried” order. She always contrived to intro- 
duce subjects upon which she was well prepared, and she had 
certain pet suggestions and arguments which she brought 
forward at times when they would excite most attention and 
in the society of the persons who would be most struck by 
them. 

Jhus, on one occasion she gained high repute with a pro- 
fessor of history, whom she met at Saratoga, by expressing 
her admiration of Burke’s speech at the trial of Warren 
Hastings, which work she had heard extolled by one of her 
student friends and had dipped into sufficiently to be able to 
speak quite glibly of Lord Clive and the Begum of Oude. 

“ I shall never despair of American girls again !” quoth 
the professor, in rehearsing this remarkable incident. “ To 
hear that fashionably-dressed young lady discussing a remote 
event in English history in a ball-room at Saratoga was one 
of the most refreshing surprises I have ever experienced.” 

And she had impressed deeply first the intellect and then 
the heart of a gifted young student of theology by asking 
him confidentially whether he supposed there was any trace 
of human love in the affection felt by Jesus for Mary, the 
sister of Martha. 

■ u I don’t want to be irreverent,” she said, ingenuously, 
“ but I have been wondering whether, in His nature as a 
man, He could have had such feelings^ You know,” she 
added, lifting her great dark eyes, and putting a mournful 
expression into them, “ you know how much unhappiness is 
caused in this world by love, and perhaps if He ever did 
suffer as a man in that way, He could sympathize more fully 
with other sufferers.” 

Of course the student hastened to give an orthodox reply 
to this astounding suggestion; at the same time he was 


THE LIGHT-HOUSE WOODS . 


203 


greatly interested in the disposition shown by his youthful 
questioner, and his interest took the form she had intended 
to evoke. For Lilian did not mean to be irreverent. She 
only meant that Mr. Putnam was to fall in love with Miss 
Thorne ; and after that result had been brought about she 
ceased to puzzle her mind about the private history of the 
fair maid of Bethany. 

But in the instance with which we have to do, her success 
did not equal her aspirations. Mr. Cleaveland did not appear 
to have heard her pathetic allusion to his mothers possible 
occupation and state of feeling in heaven ; the illuminated 
title-page of the prayer-book absorbed his attention, and, after 
a pause, he looked up and said, — 

“ This work is very well done I I infer that you belong to 
the High-Church party?” 

“ Yes, indeed,” answered Lilian, eagerly. “ I go to St. 
Alban’s Church when I am at home. I miss it so much, up 
here.” 

“ Yes, you must,” he answered, heartily. 

Mr. Cleaveland possessed in a high degree the faculty of 
putting himself, for the moment, in another’s place and view- 
ing a subject from another’s stand-point. Hence he was often 
credited with opinions which he did not hold, and with sym- 
pathies which he did not feel. Lilian fell at once into the 
trap. 

‘‘At any rate, his associations are all in favor of the 
Church,” she said to herself, “ and it will not be hard to bring 
him over.” 

She felt that she might speak freely to him of her spiritual 
privations, and if a little of her temporal jealousies should 
creep into the recital it would do nobody any harm and might 
do her good. So, emboldened by his assenting remark, she 
gladly took up the parable of her wrongs and woes. 

“ At home I have a great deal to do with church affairs,” 
she said. “ In the first place, there is the daily service. I 
almost always go in the morning, but not often in the after- 
noon, because it is just the hour for driving in the Park. 
Sundays I often go three times, though. Then there are 
extra services on saints’ days, and I have district visiting 
besides.” 

“ Ho you teach in the Sunday-school, too ?” 


204 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL . 


“ No. That isn’t quite in my line. But I help prepare 
the presents for Christmas.” 

“ Well, now, that is very interesting, very !” remarked Mr. 
Cleaveland, in a musing tone. “And you give up so much 
time every day, and do not miss it for other things?” 

“ No,” she answered, hesitatingly, not feeling certain that 
he considered it a virtue to spend so many hours at church. 
“ There is always time for what one wants to do. I have 
oceans of calls to make, but I take the afternoon for that 
work ; and then there are the evenings for company and the 
opera and concerts. In Lent, of course, I don’t dance; in- 
deed, I am so tired out with going to parties by that time 
that I am glad to have forty days to rest in. After Lent is 
over I am able to enjoy the spring gayeties, but I never neglect 
my church duties for worldly pleasures. I think people can 
be religious and yet be lively, don’t you?” 

“ It would seem so,” he answered, cautiously. 

u You can imagine what a contrast this life is in such 
matters,” she continued. “ Nothing but that wretched Or- 
thodox meeting to go to ! I believe the Unitarians and the 
Methodists have meetings, too ; but the Orthodox is the 
grand affair, here. Of course I would not look at any of 
them. There is only one thing that I despise more than I do 
these sects, and that is Low-Church Episcopalians. They 
don’t appreciate the meaning of the service at all. I know a 
lady here who is exactly one of that kind. She seemed very 
pleasant at first, but I am tired of her canting talk. Such 
people are nothing more than Presbyterians who have stolen 
our prayer-book. 

“ It makes it all the harder for me here,” she continued, 
meekly casting down her eyes, “ because I have no sympathy 
from my relations. My aunt and cousin don’t belong to any 
church, they are not even Unitarians, and they take me up in 
a minute if I say anything about religion. Miss Davis sets 
up to be pious, but it is after the Puritan fashion. She spends 
half her time running to that old Orthodox meeting-house. 
So I don’t get any comfort from any of them.” 

“ Oh, well,” he answered, soothingly, “ perhaps it won’t do 
you any harm to go out of your beaten track for a short time. 
It will enlarge your horizon to look about you a little and see 
what other people think of these things.” 


t 


THE LIGHT-HOUSE WOODS. 


205 


“ Do you think so?” she asked, softly, as though quite will- 
ing to be guided by so wise a leader. “ I will remember that 
when I feel lonely again. And I am very glad I have had 
this little talk with you. A trouble seems less when it is 
shared with a friend.” 

A pause ensued. Mr. Cleaveland was beginning to be hun- 
gry, after his bath ; he also felt the need of brisk exercise, as 
the warmth of the sunshine in which he sat was counteracted 
in a good degree by a cool west wind. Lilian was too busy 
contriving how she could lead the conversation to yesterday’s 
mistakes and misunderstandings, to think about breakfast or 
to perceive that her companion might construe her silence into 
a hint for his departure. She was quite startled when he rose, 
and, picking up his shawl, said, — 

“ I will not interfere any longer with your meditations. But 
allow me, as a physician, to suggest that it is not good for your 
health to walk far or sit long on an empty stomach.” 

“ How I hate that expression !” thought Lilian. “ How 
can one walk and sit on one’s stomach, I should like to know ? 
He might have worded his advice more elegantly in speaking 
to a young lady.” 

But the offender looked so handsome that she speedily for- 
gave him, and answered, with a smile, — 

“ Thank you for reminding me of breakfast. I do begin 
to feel tired and faint ; but this scenery is so lovely that it is 
a temptation to stay too long.” 

She sprang up to accompany him, and was glad to see that 
he knew all the little ways of helping a lady arrange her attire 
and belongings for a walk. He insisted upon carrying the 
prayer-book, and holding his own umbrella to shield her from 
the sun, and she found employment for both hands in keeping 
the muddiest portion of her flounces out of his sight. 

She was provoked at herself for mentioning the scenery, for 
he continued to talk about it, and she could not get a chance 
to begin her complaint of his unjust charge of the day before. 
Several times she was on the point of breaking out with a mild 
protest. She felt as though she must say, “ Oh, I had not 
forgotten you ! I did want you to go to walk with us ! 
Why will you misunderstand me so ?” — and then, she knew, 
she should burst out crying. Even now her throat ached 
with suppressed emotion. And she had come so far and 

18 


206 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL. 


made herself so uncomfortable for this very purpose, and 
they were every moment drawing nearer to the village, and 
yet she had not said a word ! She wished he would stop talk- 
ing about that abominable Blue Hill and look or act a little 
bit sentimental, so as to give her a chance ! She would not be 
such a fool as to neglect another such opportunity as she 
had had during that silence at the rock ! 

But each time that she fancied he was about to pause, each 
time that she was ready, with beating heart and trembling 
lips, to arrest his attention by a cry of wounded feeling, some- 
thing held her back from the self-sought exposure, and she 
would retire again within herself, to mourn over her timidity 
and resolve to speak the first moment he should catch his 
breath. 

What was it that restrained her? Was it her companion’s 
thoroughly objective remarks, or the incongruity between her 
present circumstances and her feelings, or was it a touch of 
maidenly reserve which had outlived all the efforts of years 
of coquetry to deaden it ? 

That is a question for psychologists. The fact remains, that 
the common was passed, and the village entered, and yet 
Lilian had made no observation, beyond an absent assent to 
Mr. Cleavelaud’s raptures over the scenery. And now a new 
torment threatened her. What would her aunt and the girls 
say on seeing her come back with the stranger from an early 
ramble and with her dress in such a condition ? She was sure 
they would be standing in the sun at the front door : they 
often were. W hat excuse could she give for getting up and 
going to walk before breakfast, she who was always the last 
one out of bed and the latest to reach the dining-room ? 

Perhaps Mr. Cleaveland had his misgivings on the sub- 
ject too, for at the next turning he said, in an apologetic 
tone, — 

“ * am to do something which I am afraid you will 
think very uncivil. I am going to leave you here to go home 
alone. I have an errand at a boat-shop down by the water, 
and the man is so seldom to be found that I think I would bet- 
ter make sure of him early. I shall be back to breakfast in 
a few minutes.” 

“ Oh, certainly,” said Lilian, greatly relieved. “ I know 
the way quite well.” 


THE LIGHT-HOUSE WOODS . 


207 


He gave her the prayer-book, and, taking off his hat, waited 
for her to pass on before he turned down the lane to the shore. 
Lilian hurried along till she came in sight of the house, and 
then walked slowly to see whether any of the family were at 
the door. No, the coast was clear ; and, gathering up her skirts 
higher than she had ventured to carry them while walking 
with Mr. Cleaveland, she almost flew past the dining-room 
windows, into the open door, and up the stairs to her own 
room. 

It was done ; she was safe ; no one would know. Her fortu- 
nate escape almost compensated for the ill success of her at- 
tempt. After all, she had accomplished something. She had 
set to work an influence which might result in Mr. Cleave- 
land’s being brought back to the Church ; she had let him 
know that she was not merely a fine lady with nothing to do, 
and she had given him a hint about Sarah’s priggishness and 
Laura’s unbelief which would probably check any inclination 
he might have felt towards either of them. The rest would 
follow in due time. 

Lilian made haste to change her clothes, and was almost 
ready to go down when the breakfast-bell rang. 

There was no suspicion visible upon the faces of her relatives 
as she entered the dining-room, and everything went on so 
naturally that she might almost have considered the walk to 
the light-house a dream, had it not been that she felt so 
sleepy and tired. Mr. Cleaveland had not yet returned, and 
Lilian’s anxiety was again aroused, as she wondered whether 
he would have the tact to keep their meeting a secret. 

She need not have been afraid. He came in with a lively 
air, greeted them all alike, and related his adventure of the 
cold bath without any allusion to nymph or naiad. 

Mrs. Preble gave him a matronly lecture on the danger of 
trying such experiments in his delicate state of health, and, 
forgetting his profession, suggested a drop of aconite or nux 
vomica as preventive of a chill. Whereupon he laughed, and 
warned her that, if she did not take care, they would soon be 
involved in the long-standing war between allopathy and ho- 
moeopathy. 

“ He is perfectly charming,” said Lilian to herself, when 
the gay repast was over, “ but I must have him more to my- 
self. I can’t stand this everlasting chattering with everybody 


208 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL . 


else, Aunt Lucy requiring so much civility on account of her 
health, and Laura cutting in all the time with her nonsense, 
and Sarah grinning at everything Laura says ! For my part, 
I think it is very stupid ; and I dare say Mr. Cleaveland thinks 
so too, only he is so dreadfully polite that he doesn’t dare to 
show how much he is bored.” 

She was startled out of her revery by a suggestion from 
Laura : 

“Let us all go to .the light-house this afternoon and have 
our supper there.” 

“Why do you want to go to-day?” asked Lilian, quickly. 

“ Well, for several reasons. In the first place, the weather 
is just right. It hasn’t rained since day before yesterday, 
and so the woods will be dry. And it is father’s birthday, 
and we must celebrate it in some way. And the light- 
house is just the prettiest place in the world for a picnic. 
And to-morrow is prayer-meeting evening, and Sarah must be 
at home to go. Haven’t I given reasons enough ?” she asked, 
gayly, seeing that Lilian still looked sober over the plan. 

“ Oh, yes, I suppose so ; but it will very likely rain before 
night and spoil it all. It would be much safer and a great 
deal less fuss to have supper in the garden.” 

“ In the garden !” groaned Laura. “We have the garden 
every day. But we can’t always risk going to the light- 
house. And there isn’t the least danger of a storm. The 
barometer is high, and the moon is nearly full, and the wind is 
northwest. I am not afraid of its raining, and I don’t want 
you to throw cold water on my proposal. We shall have a 
lovely time, and you will enjoy it as much as any one. I 
dare say the wild roses are not yet out of blossom,” she added, 
slyly, with a meaning glance at Lilian. Lilian colored, and 
was more than ever annoyed at Sarah’s sympathetic giggle. 

“ As you choose,” she said ; and Laura, glad to have even 
this grudging consent, ran off to consult with Mrs. Turner 
about the supper. 

Lilian’s apparent unwillingness surprised them all. 

“ Perhaps,” thought Mrs. Preble, “ she supposes we are 
going to leave Mr. Cleaveland out. If so, I will set her little 
heart at rest on that point.” 

So she turned to the gentleman, who had left the table and 
was reading a newspaper at the farther window, and said, — 


THE LIGHT-HOUSE WOODS . 


209 


11 Of course you will go with us, Mr. Cleaveland ? You will 
quite forget the chill of your bath after drinking a cup of 
hot chocolate down there in the woods.” 

“ I shall be most happy to go,” he answered, heartily. 
“ When do you start ?” 

“ Oh, at three, or thereabouts. I always lie down after 
dinner. Three is early enough, for there is a moon, and we 
needn’t hurry about coming home.” 

u It will be delightful, I am sure. And if I can be of any 
use in making preparations, I hope you will let me know.” 

“ Thank you. Mrs. Turner will send a boy with the 
things. It is a long walk, and we shall be tired enough with- 
out carrying baskets.” 

For once Mrs. Preble had done Lilian injustice. The pos- 
sibility of the one gentleman of their party being left behind 
had not entered her head, but she felt so lame and tired and 
sleepy that the very mention of the lighthouse was hateful 
to her. If the man would only go away, she would go straight 
up to her room and lie down till dinner-time. But it was out 
of the question to leave him alone with the others. And 
they all seemed possessed to stick right there, instead of ad- 
journing to Mrs. Preble’s chamber, as usual. And he, too, 
appeared to enjoy the unusual bustle and to be determined to 
watch the whole performance. 

At last he got up, saying that he had writing to do which 
he must attend to so as to have a clear conscience for the 
afternoon’s enjoyment ; and Lilian, so soon as he had had 
time to reach his room, hastened to hers, and, covering her- 
self up warm in bed, was soon fast asleep. 

“ Oh, Lilian, I wouldn’t wear that beautiful dress, if I 
were you !” exclaimed Mrs. Preble, as Lilian entered attired 
for the walk in her pearl-gray poplin with trimmings of mauve 
velvet. “ Why don’t you put on your travelling-suit ?” 

“ I can’t,” replied Lilian, shortly. “ It has been growing 
shabby around the bottom for some time, and I have just 
sent it to be cleaned and mended. I shan’t hurt this dress. 
It was made to be worn.” 

“ But won’t it be too warm ?” 

“ No. I am half frozen to-day. The sun is bright enough, 
but the wind is very cool. What is Laura going to wear ?” 

“ Her blue cambric. She is going to make the chocolate, 
18 * 


o 


210 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL. 


you know, and so she doesn’t want to dress up. Sarah is 
going to wear her pink muslin, and you see I have got on my 
grenadine. We all think it unusually warm to-day. I 
should think you would roast in that poplin.” 

“ You will find it cool enough in the woods,” persisted 
Lilian. 

“ We shall take our shawls, of course,” returned Mrs. 
Preble. “ But you cannot take off anything if you are too 
warm.” 

The walk across the meadows was a good test of the di- 
verse opinions concerning the weather. Mrs. Preble, Laura, 
and Sarah exclaimed frequently at the heat of the blazing 
sunshine. Mr. Cleaveland said little, for fear that the ladies 
would insist upon carrying their shawls, which he had gallantly 
taken possession of at starting, and which now, in their con- 
fusion of gay coloring, adorned one of his broad shoulders, 
while the other supported his own heavy plaid. He did 
really feel as though he should melt under the double burden, 
and was as much surprised as the others to hear Lilian, in her 
cumbrous woollen dress, declare that the air was only pleasantly 
warm, and that it was the first summer-like day they had had 
since coming to Castine. 

But the secret of her opposition was soon discovered. The 
party had scarcely entered the shade of the light-house 
woods when Lilian sank down at the foot of a tree, and, lean- 
ing her head against the trunk, said, in a faint voice, “ I can- 
not go any farther, I feel so weak !” 

“ Oh, Lilian, you will get all covered with gum !” cried 
Mrs. Preble, who was too far in advance to see what had 
happened. 

Mr. Cleaveland threw the shawls upon the ground, and then, 
picking up his own again, spread it behind Lilian, and, lay- 
ing his hands gently on her shoulders, said, “ Lie down a 
moment.” 

She obeyed the direction of his hands, and with closed 
eyes lay back upon the shawl, working her head restlessly, as 
her numerous braids and puffs came in contact with the un- 
even ground. 

“Never mind a pillow,” said Mr. Cleaveland, smiling: 
“ the lower your head is, the better. Did the boy bring 
water with the baskets?” he asked of Laura, who, with 


THE LIGHT-HOUSE WOODS . 


211 


Sarah, had turned back and now stood looking with alarm at 
Lilian’s pale face. 

“ No,” she answered. “ There is a spring close by. I will 
get some.” 

She ran to the row of baskets standing in the shade, and, 
taking a cup from one of them, hurried through the woods 
towards the spring, followed by Mr. Cleaveland. The spring 
was soon reached, and Mr. Cleaveland, taking the cup, bent 
down and filled it, and then both hurried back without a 
word. 

Mrs. Preble was there before them. 

“ I cannot think what is the matter with her,” she ex- 
claimed, as she took the cup from Mr. Cleaveland’s hands 
and helped Lilian raise her head to drink. 

They all kept still a few moments. Mr. Cleaveland was 
wondering whether the early morning walk had, after all, 
been an exception to the young lady’s ordinary rule and 
practice, but he hesitated to allude to that incident in explana- 
tion of the present misfortune, as he had an instinctive con- 
viction that the others knew nothing of the accidental meet- 
ing. It seemed as though Lilian were conscious of the danger 
of her little secret being discovered, for she hastened to say, 
“ It is nothing. I shall feel better soon.” And in a few 
minutes she had mustered sufficient strength to sit upright. 

“ What is the matter ?” asked Mrs. Preble, anxiously. “ Are 
you in pain anywhere ?” 

“ No, no,” answered Lilian, wearily. “ I haven’t felt well 
all day, and I went to sleep before dinner, and slept too soundly, 
I suppose.” 

“ Then you are not well,” said Mrs. Preble, gravely. “ You 
never go to sleep before dinner, nor after dinner either. Why 
didn’t you say something about it, and then we wouldn’t have 
come here ?” 

“ I did propose to Laura to have the picnic in the garden, 
but she would not hear of it.” 

“ But you didn’t give any reason,” exclaimed Laura. “ If 
you had said you didn’t feel like taking a long walk to-day, of 
course I would have given up the plan.” 

“ Well, there is no use in talking about that now,” said 
Mrs. Preble : “ the thing is to get you home as soon as pos- 
sible.” 


212 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL . 


11 For mercy’s sake, aunt, don’t make so much out of a 
trifle,” cried Lilian. “ I feel well enough now. And I’d 
much rather stay out in the air.” 

“ But it will be easier to find a conveyance now than 
towards night. All the carriages and wagons there are, seem 
to make their appearance when the steamboat comes in, and 
at no other time. If Laura and Sarah go back now they can 
catch something and send it out for us.” 

u No, Aunt Lucy, I don’t need to go back in a carriage. I 
can walk perfectly well when the time comes,” insisted Lilian. 
She rose as she spoke, and gave a smiling nod to Mr, Cleave- 
land, who stood at a little distance watching her with a pro- 
fessional eye. 

“ You needn’t think there is any chance of your being 
called in to give advice,” she said, gayly, still looking at him. 
“ I am as well as anybody. — Come, let us go on to the place 
we are going to stay at,” she continued, turning impatiently 
towards the others : “ it is down by the spring, isn’t it ?” 

Her manner was so determined that Mrs. Preble thought 
it wise not to insist upon a return to the village, and so she 
picked up the shawls, and Mr. Cleaveland took the heaviest 
basket, while Laura and Sarah followed with the two lighter 
ones. 

11 Our first duty is to make Miss Thorne comfortable,” 
said Mr. Cleaveland, with busy politeness. 

“ She must be considered the Queen of the Feast,” he 
added, unfolding his heavy shawl and spreading it over a 
mossy bank, not unlike a throne, as it was furnished with a 
high back in the shape of a pointed rock, with a ledge at 
each side, while a broken boulder served as a footstool. 

To be singled out in so complimentary a manner was as 
good as a cordial to Lilian, and, although by this time she 
felt almost well, she submitted with a good grace to being 
treated as an invalid, and with the help of Mr. Cleaveland’s 
hand mounted to her high seat and leaned back against the 
rock in a graceful attitude, while he brought the other shawls 
and laid them within her reach in case of her needing more 
wrappings or a pillow for her head. 

“ Now, you are to stay there the whole afternoon,” he said, 
in a tone of playful authority. “ When you are tired of sit- 
ting up you can easily put your feet on the bank, and roll 


THE LIGHT-HOUSE WOODS . 213 

these shawls into a bundle and lie down ; but keep still you 
must. 

44 You have taken too much exercise to-day,” he added, 
giving her a significant glance ; “ and if you are not very 
careful you will be down sick.” 

44 It does me good to hear you say that,” cried Laura, as 
Mr. Cleaveland descended to the level of the other ladies and 
sat down beside them on the roots of a tree. 

44 I don’t mean that I am glad Lilian is not well,” she 
added, laughingly, 44 but it is so refreshing to hear you say 4 sick,’ 
and 4 down sick’ is still better. I was so tired of hearing that 
silly word 4 ill,’ all the time I was abroad.” 

44 Did you say 4 sick’ while you were away?” he asked. 

44 1 did whenever I could,” she replied : 44 but when I was 
with English people I felt rather obliged to say 4 ill,’ because 
they attach only one meaning to 4 sick,’ and that is sickness at 
the stomach, and so, to give a right impression and avoid 
giving a disagreeable one, I followed their custom. That is 
one of their shibboleths, you know. They call 4 sick’ an 
Americanism, though it is in their Bible and they would find 
it in all their own authors, if they ever read them. Indeed, 
they are forced to use the word themselves in some signifi- 
cations. You can’t sayan 4 ill’ child when you mean a 4 sick’ 
child. It is the greatest stuff and nonsense, like most of 
their fastidiousness.” 

44 One would suppose that the subject of 4 Americanisms’ 
had been sufficiently discussed to set the English right as to 
the origin of the words they find so much fault with,” replied 
Mr. Cleaveland. 

44 Oh, but you can’t teach the English anything. They 
are like the Bourbons : they never forget , and they never learn . 
You might write the history of those words, and keep an 
army of men walking about London with placards behind and 
before, and advertise it upon every omnibus, until the whole 
town knew the book by heart, and they would turn right 
round the next minute and reiterate the same old charges. 

44 They say it needs a surgical operation to get a joke into 
a Scotchman’s head ; but there is no earthly means of getting 
a prejudice out of an Englishman’s head, — especially a preju- 
dice against America. In their minds every man in America 
spits on the floor and whistles, and every woman chews gum 


214 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL. 


and neglects her family, and both men and women talk 
through their noses and say ‘ sick’ and ‘ guess’ and ‘ fix.’ 
As though 4 guess’ were not the best word in the world 
when one is really guessing at a thing! They laugh when 
they hear us talk about fixing our hair. Well, we do fix it: 
we make it fast with hair-pins. And 1 in a fix,’ which is an 
Americanism, is a very apt and expressive phrase. I hope 
to live to see England get a practical knowledge of its full 
meaning !” 

“ Why, what a cruel young lady you are !” exclaimed Mr. 
Cleaveland, who had been watching with amused admiration 
the flush in Laura’s cheeks and the increasing sparkle in her 
eyes. ‘ The land of Shakespeare,’ you know.” 

“ Yes ; and they forget that in Shakespeare’s time it was 
our land as much as it was theirs. It is just of a piece with 
their claiming Longfellow and Hawthorne as really English 
authors. Whenever a really good book comes out iu 
America they begin to talk about cousins and having the 
same language, just as when they are in danger of a war with 
other nations they remind us that we are of the same blood 
and have the same interests.” 

“ Well, Laura,” said her mother, after a short pause, “let 
us have peace. Give the English a rest for a while. It is 
time to begin to think about supper.” 

“ Oh, yes ! we are going to have a fire ! a fire out of 
doors, in the woods, — the prettiest thing in the world !” cried 
Laura, restored at once to her gay and gentle self. “ It 
would be a profanation to think about the English or any 
other worrying subject while we are looking at a fire. Come, 
Sarah, let us go into the woods and pick up sticks.” 

Of course Mr. Cleaveland went with them. He could not 
help offering his services for such rough work, Lilian ac- 
knowledged to herself, as she lay down and turned her face 
to the rock and shut her eyes. Her faintness was very un- 
fortunate, she thought, and yet it had its advantages. A 
pretty woman never looks prettier than when she is lying 
down, and her white Shetland shawl made a very good back- 
ground for her dark hair, while Laura’s scarf of Roman 
colors was just the thing to hang over her soft-hued dress. 
Many times during the conversation around the spring, she 
had seen Mr. Cleaveland’s eyes resting upon her, and she 


THE LIGHT-HOUSE WOODS. 


215 


fancied he did not look up, as the others did, merely to let 
her feel that they remembered her aud wished her to have a 
part in their enjoyment, but as though he liked to look at 
her. To be sure, a doctor was supposed to object, theoreti- 
cally, to any signs of ill health in a young girl ; but in 
reality doctors were just as likely as other men to marry 
sickly women. Mr. Cleaveland would not like her less for 
giving out after such a tramp as he, and he alone, knew she 
had taken that day. It always flattered a physician to be 
able to give advice and prescribe remedies, and he would feel 
a new iuterest in her as a sort of patient. 

So Lilian shut her eyes and prepared to take the rest she 
had denied herself so long as Mr. Cleavelaud was there to be 
charmed with bright glances and bewitching attitudes. 

Meantime, Mrs. Preble’s fingers moved nimbly at her 
tatting, while her thoughts revolved around this latest dem- 
onstration of Lilian’s coquettish spirit. 

What did it all mean? After the many long walks the 
girl had taken without auy worse effect than a little grum- 
bling over fatigue or pain from a tight boot, why should she 
fall down in a fainting-fit so soon as a handsome young phy- 
sician was added to their party? For Mrs. Preble had no 
faith in the genuineness of Lilian’s complaint. She had 
heard her tell Laura that one could raise a blush at any time 
by holding one’s breath and making a pushing motion in the 
throat, and if she knew that trick she probably understood 
how to produce an artificial pallor on demand. But if she 
really loved Horace Grinnell, why should she want to lay 
traps for this stranger, especially now that Horace was likely 
to appear at any moment ? The episode with the priest was 
rather different ; superstition and curiosity were mixed up with 
sentiment in that affair j but Mr. Cleaveland appeared to be 
a sensible, straightforward, and rather distantly-polite young 
gentleman. Why couldn’t she enjoy his society in an honest 
way and then let him go, as very likely they would never 
meet him again after leaving Castine ? 

Quite unconscious of being the subject of cogitation in the 
miuds of the two ladies left behind, Mr. Cleaveland found 
much amusement in the hunt after fuel. He told the girls 
of a quantity of drift-wood he had seen on the shore that 
morning, and they all scrambled down the steep rocks to the 


216 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL. 


pebbly beach to secure it. They piled up at the foot of the 
clitf the washed-out, smooth-worn wood, so pathetic in its 
suggestions of storm and shipwreck, and then wandered along 
the shore towards the bluffs, stopping frequently to pick up 
shells or snatch a bit of sea-weed from a retreating wave. 
Laura pointed out Trask’s Rock, and, when they came to it, 
Mr. Cleaveland climbed the rounded side and stood triumphant 
on the top. He looked supremely handsome up there alone, 
his figure clearly defined against the sky, and his hair blow- 
ing in the wind. Laura’s admiration was in her eyes as she 
looked up at him, but she did not know it. He saw it, and 
was glad : it was the first sign she had given of a conscious- 
ness of his good looks, whereas experience had taught him to 
expect an instant recognition of his uncommon beauty on the 
part of unappropriated maidens and married flirts. 

And yet such immediate homage had always annoyed him. 
He was too manly to be vain, and it humiliated him to be 
taken on trust because of his attractive face and form. From 
the first he had disliked Lilian’s silent worship of the eye, 
the long, warm glance which seemed to spread all over him 
at once, and hence Laura's indifference had been a refreshing 
contrast. Still, it would not do for her to be really uncon- 
scious. Such coldness would argue either an impassive 
nature or a lack of taste, and therefore he welcomed her 
tardy and involuntary betrayal of admiration more as a proof 
of the requisite sensibility of her character than as a tribute 
to his own deserts. 

He wanted to help them up beside him, but they both 
refused to make the attempt. The very idea shocked Sarah, 
it would involve such an exposure of ankles and petticoats, 
and Laura had no mind to be dragged up and lifted down by 
a comparative stranger : so they waited below, shading their 
eyes from the sun as they followed his tracing of distant 
shores which he assured them he could see much better at 
his level than they could at theirs. He came down in a few 
minutes, and they resumed their walk. 

“ I wish we had time to go round Block House Point,” 
said Laura. “ The tide is going out, and the path is dry by 
this time. It is beautiful just under the bluff. But we 
ought to go back and get supper, I suppose. Perhaps it is 
just as well ; for they are probably boiling porgies on the 


THE LIGHT-HOUSE WOODS . 217 

other side of the point, and the smell is horrible ! It would 
destroy all the romance, I am afraid.” 

“ Never mind ; we will come again,” said Mr. Cleaveland, 
as they turned back, Sarah leading the way and hurrying on 
in advance of the others. 

“ You will have your fire in the woods to console you,” 
he added, “ and while you are enjoying the blaze I will go to 
the spring and get water to make the cocoa.” 

Laura began to laugh merrily. “ 1 That reminds me of a 
little story, as Mr. Lincoln used to say.” 

“ What is it?” asked Mr. Cleaveland, turning around and 
walking slowly backwards as he looked at her. 

She looked at him, and began : 

“ Once there was a woman who was engaged to a man, and 
she said to him, 1 1 love you so dearly that I would marry 
you even if I had to live on bread and water all my life !' 
And he said, 4 All right. You look out for the bread , and 
then Til skirmish around and find the water /’ ” 

They both laughed, and then Laura quickened her steps to 
overtake Sarah, and Mr. Cleaveland followed close behind 
her. They were both silent, and Laura felt slightly embar- 
rassed. For the story, ridiculous as it was, had been in- 
vested with importance through the mute comments of the 
auditor. When Laura, looking firmly into Mr. Cleaveland’s 
eyes, without a thought beyond the anecdote, repeated the 
words “ I love you so dearly that I would marry you,” etc., his 
careless glance changed to a pleading, sentimental expression, 
such as he had often used with telling effect upon women’s 
hearts, and, though she knew it was only assumed for mischief 
and to try. her, she could not prevent the color deepening 
in her cheek, while her voice faltered a little as she went on 
with the story. Her emotion could not be forgotten at once, 
and so she picked up her bundle of drift-wood without a 
word, while Mr. Cleaveland marched on up the rocks, carrying 
the greater portion of the pile, and congratulating himself 
upon the agreeable revelations of femiuine character which 
his ingenious devices had succeeded in calling forth. 

“ Here is the place for the fire !” cried Laura, leading the 
way to an open space within a circle of trees at the top of 
the hill. There was a heap of ashes at the foot of one of 
the trees, and pieces of paper and broken egg-shells lying 
k 19 


218 LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL. 

about told of the recent visit of other parties to the favorite 
spot. 

“ I don’t see how people can be so slovenly !” said Laura, 
as she laid down her drift-wood and began to pick up the 
egg-shells. “ These papers will do to kindle our fire with, 
so I must not quarrel with them, I suppose. But first we 
must gather little sticks and twigs in the woods : this soaked- 
out drift-wood will never burn by itself.” 

So they wandered about among the trees, collecting dry 
acorn-cups and fallen branches and long fringes of crispy 
gray moss which hung from the level arms of the fir-trees. 

“ I never come here without thinking of Longfellow,” 
said Laura. u How sweet and warm the air is, and how 
spicy the trees smell ! Oh, I wish we could live in the woods 
forever, and never go back to a house !” 

Laura had not noticed that Sarah had strayed away out of 
hearing, and that Mr. Cleaveland was close beside her, until 
he answered, — 

“ So do I ! Just think of a fire of drift-wood every day !” 

She knew by the tone of his voice that he was ready to 
give her just such a melting glance as he had improvised for 
her edification down on the shore, but she would not look 
round to meet it. 

“ I am afraid he has been very much spoiled,” she thought ; 
“ but here is a child that is not going to flatter him.” 

She stooped to look at an ant-hill. “ I could watch these 
busy little creatures for hours !” she said. “ I presume this 
heap of sand looks to them like a great mountain, or a mag- 
nificent city set on a hill. And I often think what fine times 
the worms and bugs that live in the woods must have ! If 
they care for scenery, they can find a much greater variety 
than we can. I suppose every blade of grass is a tree to 
them, and every pool of water a sea. I always like to im- 
agine a toad sitting under a great toadstool and calling it 
his house. But I never did see one anywhere near a toad- 
stool !” 

“ What do you suppose the bugs think of all these pine- 
needles ?” he asked. 

“ They take them for dry lumber,” she answered, gayly. 
“ But come ; if we don’t hurry and make our fire, supper won’t 
be ready till after dark.” 


THE LIGHT-HOUSE WOODS. 


219 


They hastened towards the spring, overtaking Sarah on the 
way, who, not having wasted time in moralizing over ant-hills, 
had secured the largest armful of kindlings. 

“ Now, you two can build the fire,” she said, throwing 
down her bundle, “ and I will go and see how Aunt Lucy is 
getting on.” 

Mr. Cleaveland was not sorry to see her disappear. He 
felt in a slightly sentimental mood, and was pleased to carry 
on for the moment the illusion of being alone in the world 
with Laura. Her laughing words, “ I love you so dearly ,” 
still rang in his ears, and her subsequent desire to live always 
in the woods chimed in harmoniously with that sentiment, 
and made it seem as though they two were really all in all to 
each other, and were about to kindle their first fire in the 
rustic bower they had chosen for their home. So he bent 
gladly to the task of arranging the flat stones at the sides of 
the fireplace, and piled up the drift-wood carefully in the 
middle, while Laura stood beside him and handed masses of 
the lighter fuel to lay under and on top and between the 
sticks. 

“ Now let me have your match-box,” she said, as he stood 
up and brushed the moss from his clothes. 

“ Match-box ? I didn’t bring any,” he answered. 

“ Oh, how provoking !” she cried. “ What’s the use of 
smoking those horrid cigars, if you can’t be ready whenever 
anybody wants a light ? The only good I know of tobacco 
is that it implies a constant supply of matches !” 

“ But I don’t smoke 1 those horrid cigars,’ ” was his reply. 

“ Don’t you ?” she exclaimed, joyfully. “ Then I’ll forgive 
you, and give you a good mark besides !” 

“ Give it to me, then,” said he, laughingly. 

“ Well, here,” she answered, and, turning to the birch-tree 
beside her, she took a hair-pin from her mass of curls and 
made a long scratch upon the smooth bark. 

“ I can do better than that !” he cried, and, opening his 
knife, he cut the scratch deeper, and proceeded to shape her 
initials and his own. ^ j * - 

“ I am glad you made my good mark so high up,” said he. 
“ Nobody will notice the letters, and so they will not be 
scratched over by other names.” 

She stood beside him until the work was finished, and then 


220 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL. 


remarked, “ But all this will Dot kindle our fire. I am afraid 
we shall have to go to the light-house for a match ; but first 
I’ll ask mother.” 

“ Let me go. You stay here and rest,” he said, and hur- 
ried off towards the spring. Mrs. Preble was no longer in the 
place where he had left her, but Lilian was still lying upon 
her rocky couch. Thinking that she might be asleep, and 
that in any case rest was the best thing for her, he stole 
noiselessly away, and, catching a glimpse of Sarah’s pink 
dress between the distant trees, he followed the direction, and 
soon came upon the two ladies, who were standing at the en- 
trance to the woods, talking to a gentleman whom they were 
apparently very glad to see. 

“ Oh, here is Mr. Cleaveland !” cried Mrs. Preble. “ Mr. 
Cleaveland, allow me to introduce Mr. Peering. You have 
heard us speak of him, and I have just been telling him 
about you,” she continued, as the two gentlemen bowed and 
shook hands. “ He has arrived just in time to take part in 
our picnic, and you must make him help you get supper.” 

“ If Mr. Peering will give us a match he will be helping 
us most effectually,” replied Mr. Cleaveland. 

“ I really wish I could,” said Mr. Peering, in his hearty 
way ; “ but I never smoke, you see, and so I don’t carry 
matches, as a general thing. But I’ll go up to the light- 
house and get some.” 

“Wait a minute,” said Mrs. Preble: “it is just possible 
that Mrs. Turner was so thoughtful as to put some into one 
of the baskets.” 

Sure enough, there was a box lying in the top teacup, and 
Mr. Cleaveland hurried back with it to the woods. Mrs. 
Preble and Sarah began to arrange the supper upon a table- 
cloth spread on the grass, and Mr. Peering, after exchanging 
a few words with Lilian, was directed by Mrs. Preble where 
to find Laura and the fire. 

“ I am glad those men are out of the way !” exclaimed 
Lilian, sitting upright. “ I want to get myself in order for 
supper. I suppose my hair is every which way, isn’t it ?” 

“ I’m sure I can’t tell,” said Sarah, going to her assistance. 
“ Nowadays the wilder hair looks, the nearer right it is. 
But the braids hang in the middle behind, and the puffs are 
just where you always wear them, it seems to me. The 


THE LIGHT-HOUSE WOODS. 


221 


short hair in front is pushed a little to one side : hold still a 
minute, and I will claw it down with my fingers, though I 
think you look a great deal better with your forehead 
showing.” 

“ Take a hair-pin,” said Lilian, pulling one out of her 
braids as she spoke. “ It is more like a comb than your 
fingers are.” 

“ Now you’re all right,” said Sarah, after a few moments’ 
careful work with the hair-pin. “ Your collar isn’t tumbled 
a bit. If you want to see for yourself how your front hair 
looks, go down to the spring. The water is perfectly still 
this afternoon.” 

“ Sure enough,” replied Lilian, as she rose to her feet and 
swung the ample folds of her long skirt back into their 
proper place. Her study in nature’s mirror appeared to be 
satisfactory, as, after a few pats at certain rebellious hairs, 
she rose from the survey and seated herself under a tree 
close to one end of the table-cloth in readiness for refresh- 
ments. 

u Really, Mrs. Turner has launched out for our picnic !” 
she remarked to her aunt, who was arranging the dishes. 
“ I wish she would give us as good a supper every night.” 

“ I’m sure our suppers are very good at home,” replied 
Mrs. Preble. “ Mrs. Turner knew we couldn’t carry pre- 
serves or stewed fruit, and so she gave us a greater variety 
of other things. Sarah, you’d better go and see how the 
cocoa comes on.” 

Sarah went, and soon came back for a pitcher. 

“They are as cosey as you please up there,” was her re- 
port. “ Mr. Cleaveland and Mr. Deeriug are sitting on the 
ground under a tree, talking away like brothers, and Laura is 
watching the cocoa by the fire. That girl is a regular Parsee ! 
The fire did look pretty, and she seemed to take such comfort 
poking at it.” 

Sarah went back with the pitcher, and in a few minutes 
the whole party were assembled around the table-cloth, which 
soon began to suffer the usual fate of table-linen at a picnic. 
Mr. Peering spilled his cup of cocoa, not perceiving that 
there was a hollow where he set it, and Laura overturned a 
bottle of olives by vainly attempting to poise it upon the 
ridge of an outcropping rock. But these and similar mis- 

19 * 


222 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL. 


haps only added to the mirth of the company. They were 
all merry ; even Lilian was able to shake off her languor 
after drinking the cup of cocoa which Mr. Cleaveland made 
haste to bring her, and Sarah had never been known to be so 
gay before. It seemed a pity to have the sun go down upon 
their pleasure ; but go down it did, and twilight came creep- 
ing over the sky to prepare a suitable background for the 
coming splendors of the full moon. 

“We really must be getting ready to go home !” said Mrs. 
Preble. “ The boy has been here some time with the cart. I 
will carry him a cup of cocoa and a plate of good things, and 
while he is eating we will pack the dishes in the baskets. 
You gentlemen can wander off and amuse yourselves. This 
is woman’s work.” 

So Mr. Cleaveland and Mr. Peering went to look at the 
light-house, saying they would join the ladies as they passed 
by, and Laura and Sarah began to pick up the things, while 
Mrs. Preble and Lilian sat still and watched them. 

“ Do you feel able to walk all that distance, Lilian ?” asked 
her aunt, who was still puzzled as to whether the sudden 
indisposition was real or feigned. 

“Oh, yes ; I can walk well enough, if they don’t go too 
fast,” was the reply. 

“ I’ll tell you,” said Laura. “ Mr. Cleaveland and Mr. 
Peering must cross hands and carry you in a gypsy-chair. 
How lucky that Mr. Peering is here !” 

“ Perhaps one of them will think to offer you his arm, 
and if you feel tired you’d better take it,” said Mrs. Preble. 

At last the boy’s supper was finished, and the party started. 
The gentlemen had seen them from the light-house-tower, 
and were waiting in the path as they came up. 

“Won’t you take my arm?” said Mr. Cleaveland to Mrs. 
Preble. “ I am afraid this long walk will tire you.” 

“ No, thank you,” said Mrs. Preble : “ I don’t feel the need 
of it. But I think Lilian would be the better for a little 
support.” 

He at once stepped forward to offer his arm, which she 
willingly took. 

“ He meant me all the time,” she said to herself, “ but he 
thought he must make the offer to Aunt Lucy first, for po- 
liteness’ sake.” 


THE LIGHT-HOUSE WOODS. 223 

“ Lilian, you look like ‘ Gretchen,’ in 1 Faust/ when you have 
that dress on,” said Laura, admiringly. 

Lilian was always pleased to hear herself talked about, and 
she gave Laura a sweet smile as she hung more confidingly 
upon her escort’s arm. 

“And do you know whom you reminded me of all this 
afternoon, with your blue dress and white apron ?” asked Mr. 
Cleaveland. 

“ No,” said Laura. “ I can’t guess, unless it was £ Zer- 
lina,’ in 1 Fra Piavolo.’ She wears a white apron and waits 
on the table.” 

“ It was £ Evangeline,’ ” he answered, quietly. 

“ 1 Evangeline’ ? Oh, I am glad !” cried Laura. “ It suited 
so well with the place, the pine-trees, and the sea, I know. 
I have a copy of the book, which has a lovely pale-yellow 
cover, and ‘ Evangeline’ in a blue dress going to church, with 
her beads and her prayer-book. You must have seen the 
same picture somewhere.” 

Lilian wished that Laura would stop chattering and go in 
advance with the others. But she still kept beside them, 
and only made matters worse by calling out, — 

“ Now, somebody ought to say what Sarah looks like. 
Lilian is £ Margaret,’ and I am ‘ Evangeline.’” 

“ She looks like a wild rose,” said Mr. Peering, quickly, 
glancing from Sarah’s pink muslin dress to her pleasant face, 
which flushed up very becomingly at the unexpected compli- 
ment. 

“ What a pity that the wild roses are out of blossom !” said 
Laura, delighted at having Sarah noticed. “ Here is this 
great bush, and not a sign of a flower left !” 

All three girls thought of the scene which had been enacted 
there when the roses were in blossom ; but Mr. Peering did 
not seem to cherish any association with the spot. 

“ I suppose it is on account of the rose-bush that they 
allow all that scraggly lot of thorns to grow there,” he said, 
glancing carelessly at the mass of foliage as he passed on. 

The moon’s broad disk began to wheel slowly above the 
dark forest on the eastern horizon. The earth and the sea 
were still, and our party ceased talking, and moved slowly 
on, watching the gradual illumination of the shadowy scene. 
Lilian walked more slowly than the rest, and she clasped her 


224 


LAURA, AN AMERICAN GIRL. 


hands over Mr. Cleaveland’s arm, as she almost leaned against 
him. How she wished that the others would hasten forward 
out of hearing, and that her companion would say something 
worthy of the occasion, so that she might pour out all her 
feelings, as she had tried in vain to do when they walked over 
the same path that morning ! But, though the others did in- 
crease the distance between them, and began to talk together 
as soon as the moon was fairly up, Mr. Cleaveland’s first re- 
mark was not calculated to stimulate sentiment or encourage 
maidenly reserve. He only said, in the most matter-of-fact 
tone possible, “ The next time we afl go out for a long walk, 
we must take a little wine with us. A glass of good wine 
would have been just the thing for you when you felt faint. 
And I am afraid you were not wise in going out so early and 
staying out so long before breakfast. It is not a good habit, 
even when one is accustomed to it ; and I suppose you do not 
do it regularly ?” 

The suggestion took the form of a question, and she felt 
obliged to answer it : 

“ No, not regularly ; only when I feel like it. I could not 
sleep last night, and I thought the fresh air might do me good.’ , 

She expected that he would ask her why she could not sleep, 
and then she would tell him of her regrets on account of not 
having accompanied her mother to the Cove, and her sorrow 
on account of his having so misunderstood her failure to recog- 
nize him. 

But he answered, with all the zeal of a young physician, 
u That is the very reason you ought to have stayed in bed, 
and made up for your wakefulness by sleeping in the morning. 
You must be careful of your health while you are young, or 
you will suffer for it by and by.” 

“ I do wish the man would forget that he is a doctor, once 
in a while !” she thought. 

Altogether, the day had been a failure : still, she considered 
that some progress had been made in the stranger’s affections. 
She was sure she must have looked bewitchingly pretty, lying 
on the rock with that fleecy white shawl for a pillow, and, know- 
ing as he did what fatigues she had undergone, he could not 
think it strange that her strength should have failed her after 
the long walk in the hot sun. There was nothing disgusting 
about such an ailment : it wasn’t as though she had been taken 


THE LIGHT-HOUSE WOODS. 


225 


“ sick” in the English sense of the word. As for Laura’s 
going off with him after wood, she didn’t care about that ; 
Sarah went too, and sentiment could never flourish in her 
presence. Moreover, Mr. Cleaveland, on his return, had come 
straight to her, as though he were tired of the others, and had 
brought her the cocoa with so much interest, and had seated 
himself beside her at supper, and now here she was leaning 
on his arm and walking slowly with him in the moonlight. 
It really looked as though it meant something. 

So, as soon as they all reached home, Lilian, having heard 
Mr. Peering invite Mr. Cleaveland to go down street, and 
knowing that Laura and the others were too tired to sit up for 
the gentlemen’s return, went willingly to bed, in order to be 
ready for whatever advantages the morrow might bring. 

“ Now, I should just like to know what Lilian means,” cried 
Mrs. Preble, when she and Laura were alone for the night. 
“ Was she really sick, or was it all put on ?” 

“ Oh, she really felt faint, there is no doubt of that,” sai(f* 
Laura. “ She was as white as a sheet.” 

“ That is nothing. If she can make herself blush, she can 
make herself turn pale.” 

“ But she never *would have stayed on that rock all the 
afternoon if she had been able to stir. It must have worried 
her dreadfully to see Sarah and me going off with Mr. Cleave- 
land.” 

“ There is one thing I can’t understand. If she expects 
Horace soon, why should she want to get up a flirtation with 
this stranger just now ? If Horace should come and find her 
at her usual tricks, she might lose the small chance she now 
has to catch him.” 

“ That is Lilian, and we cannot change her. She is might- 
ily taken with Mr. Cleaveland’s looks, and she would do her 
best to attract him, if only to keep him from noticing me or 
Sarah. If she were starting for church to be married, she 
would flirt with her bridegroom’s best man in the hall.” 

“ Well,” said Mrs. Preble, with a long sigh which was almost 
a groan, “ all I have to say is, ‘ thanks to Providence and an- 
other man,’ she is not my daughter.” 


p 


226 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL. 


CHAPTER XXV. 

DISCOVERIES. 

“ The mystery about Mary is cleared up at last !” exclaimed 
Mrs. Turner, as the family assembled at breakfast the next 
morning. “ And we guessed right. She is living out, in 
Boston, and she has found some Irish relations, and she’s in 
clover generally. She don’t say that the priest got her away, 
but I know he did. And she don’t mention Pat Casey, but 
I hain’t the least doubt he’s mixed up in the business. She 
wants her trunk. Of course I shall send it to her ; and that’s 
the last I want to know about Miss Mary O’Brien !” 

“ How did you hear ?” asked Mrs. Preble, with interest. 

“ Oh, she wrote me a letter. I got it last night, but you 
came home so late, I didn’t want to bother you with it. It is 
a very proper letter, as smooth as oil, all about gratitude for 
my care, and so on. She showed a great deal of gratitude, I 
must say, running off in that style, and leaving me to fret about 
her being drowned. She don’t say a word about religion, and 
she hadn’t the face to send any message to the minister. I 
presume she is crossing herself a dozen times a minute, as 
glib as any Catholic of them all. Well, she’ll wish yet that 
she’d taken John Prentiss, over to Brooksville, or I’m mis- 
taken.” 

The acquaintance between Mr. Cleaveland and Mr. Peering 
progressed rapidly. They started out together directly after 
breakfast, and did not come back till dinner-time, and soon 
after dinner they went away in a covered buggy to Penobscot, 
where Mr. Peering had business. 

Their absence was a blessing to Lilian, who dawdled away the 
whole day in her dressing-gown upon the sofa, and thus regained 
her usual amount of nervous energy and muscular strength, 
which had been so cruelly taxed by her sleepless night and her 
long walk in the chilly morning air. 

At tea-time the party met again, and the gentlemen related 
the numerous adventures of their drive. The horse had run 
away, owing to the breaking of a strap ; they had been obliged 


DISCOVERIES. 


227 


to stop at a farm-house to beg a rope ; the farmer’s pretty 
daughter had waited upon them, and had afterwards treated 
them to some delicious root-beer : in short, they had had a fine 
time, and Mr. Deering found it much more agreeable to have 
a companion in his journeyings than to go alone, as he had 
formerly done. 

Lilian looked with small favor upon the rosy-cheeked 
Superintendent of Schools as he uttered this intimation of a 
desire to carry off Mr. Cleaveland on future occasions. 

“ They will be gadding about all over the country,” she 
thought, “ and flirting with every farmer’s daughter they see, 
instead of staying here to make this dull hole pleasant for us.” 

Mrs. Preble was suffering from a headache, and left the 
tea-table early to go into the fresh air. Laura went with 
her, leaving the others to chat as long as they liked. But 
Mr. Cleaveland finished bis supper in a few minutes and 
followed the two ladies into the garden, and Lilian, whose 
smiles had vanished on seeing this move, rose as soon as she 
dared after his departure, and stole out of the room to join 
the party. 

Sarah looked after her with a contemptuous glance, and, as 
her eyes turned away from the door, they encountered those 
of Mr. Deering. He smiled and looked rather knowing, and 
she said, abruptly, — 

“ Did you ever see such an outrageous flirt? But I don’t 
believe she will succeed in her present game.” 

They both left the table as she spoke, and Sarah started to 
go up to her room. But she was scarcely in the hall before 
her conscience smote her. What had she done ? What right 
had she to discuss Lilian’s character with a comparative 
stranger ? It was mean ! it was unwomanly ! Men were 
ready enough to speak lightly of her sex, surely women ought 
to stand by each other as long as possible. 

She stood still on the first stair and reflected. 

“ I see that I have done wrong,” she said to herself, “ and 
I never shall have any peace until I have tried my best to 
undo it.” 

So she turned resolutely and went back into the dining- 
room. Mr. Deering was there alone, and the kitchen door 
was shut. Now was her chance. She went up to him and 
said, — 


228 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL. 


“ Mr. Peering, please forget what I said just now. I 
ought not to have made such a remark about Miss Thorne.” 

His face flushed. “ You needn’t apologize, Miss Davis. 
You only said the truth. And Miss Thorne’s doings are 
nothing to me.” 

“ Of course I know that,” she answered, quickly. “ But 
even a married man must prefer to see women behave properly 
and not talk against each other to strangers.” 

He looked puzzled. “ Perhaps a married man must,” he 
answered. “ I don’t know anything about that, as I am not 
married myself. ’ 

“ Why, yes, you are !” cried Sarah. “We have known it 
from the first. Mrs. Turner told us all about you before you 
came.” 

“ Indeed ! Then you and she are wiser than I am,” he 
said, quietly, with a quizzical look in his merry blue eyes. 

“ But we have seen your house over in Belfast,” stam- 
mered Sarah, so completely astonished that she hardly knew 
what she said. 

“ Well, that’s a good one !” shouted Mr. Peering, with a 
burst of laughter. “ Don’t bachelors live in houses down 
your way, Miss Davis ? We have to up here, the winters 
are so cold !” 

Sarah blushed up to the roots of her hair. She was think- 
ing of the little boy mentioned by Mrs. Turner, whom she- 
had always supposed to be this man’s son. 

“ I think I know how you came to make such a mistake,” 
said Mr. Peering, speaking more seriously, as he noticed her 
confusion. “ I live at home with my father and mother and 
sister, but my brother is married and has three children. I 
sometimes bring the oldest child over here with me. I sup- 
pose Mrs. Turner must have spoken of us all in a lump, and 
you, naturally, did not discriminate. But how you could all 
have been so mistaken, and for so long a time — ” 

“ Oh, they didn’t all hear it. Mrs. Turner told me the 
day you came, when the others were away, and I told them. 
Afterwards we noticed that you never spoke of your wife, 
and we thought perhaps there was some reason for your 
silence, — that you were oot happy with her, or something, 
— and so we never mentioned the subject to anybody.” 

“ Well, that is a good one!” exclaimed Mr. Peering again, 


DISCOVERIES. 


229 


laughing until he was obliged to wipe the tears out of his 
eyes. “I look like a victim of domestic misery, don’t I? 
I must tell Mrs. Turner what a hero she has made of me.” 

“ No, don’t tell her,” said Sarah, hastily, and then, remem- 
bering that she had no right to set limits to the confidence 
between such old friends, she ran out of the room and into 
the garden to her aunt. 

“ What in the world has happened to Sarah ?” said Lilian, 
who noticed the hurried step and excited countenance of the 
usually demure little school-mistress. 

“ Only think, Aunt Lucy !” cried Sarah, as she sat down 
in the arbor beside her aunt. “ Mr. Deering is not married 
at all !” 

“ Not married !” exclaimed Mr. Cleaveland. 4< Why, did 
you think he was ?” 

“Certainly. We all thought so,” replied Sarah. “It 
seems it was my blunder. Mrs. Turner told me a long story 
about his family, and spoke of 1 his’ wife and children, mean- 
ing his brother’s. She mixed it up so that I did not notice 
the difference. He never spoke of his wife, to be sure ; but 
we supposed it was not a happy match, and so we were careful 
not to allude to the matter.” 

“ That is a good joke on Mr. Deering,” said Mr. Cleave- 
land, laughing heartily. They all laughed ; but Lilian saw 
here a chance of revenge upon Sarah for many fancied wrongs 
which she had often enumerated in her mind against that 
spicy young lady. If Sarah had not been so uninteresting, 
Lilian would not have gone off to bed on the momentous 
evening of Mr. Cleaveland’s arrival, and if it had not been for 
Sarah’s persistent giggling she would not have shown a scowl- 
ing face to the stranger on their first meeting. Accordingly, 
she waited until the laugh was over, and then said, in a tone 
of pretended playfulness, but which had in it a sarcastic ring, 
quite perceptible to her auditors, — 

“ Now, Sarah, do you mean us to believe that you and Mr. 
Deering have had all those endless school talks without your 
finding out that he is a bachelor?” 

“ Certainly I do,” replied Sarah. “ I suppose you thought 
he was married the time we walked to the light-house with 
those strangers, didn’t you ?” she added, significantly. 

“ Of course,” answered Lilian, carelessly. “ That is why 
20 


230 LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL. 

I felt so free with him. But we never knew him so well as 
you did.” 

Sarah perceived Lilian’s motive, and also her advantage. 
She knew that her aunt and cousin would not pay any heed 
to the insinuation ; but it hurt her feelings terribly to think 
that perhaps Mr. Cleaveland would suspect her of having 
played a deceitful game and would impart his suspicion to 
Mr. Deering. She burst into tears, sprang up, and hurried 
towards the house, followed immediately by Laura, and more 
slowly by Mrs. Preble, who paused to say to Lilian, with a 
reproachful glance, — 

“ You should be more careful. Sarah is not accustomed to 
being teased in this way.” 

Lilian only tossed her head with a light laugh, and as soon 
as her aunt was out of hearing she turned to Mr. Cleaveland, 
and said, — 

“ You must excuse Miss Davis’s petulance. She is 1 a 
broken-down school-ma’am,’ and takes offence at the least 
thing. I shall make it right with her when I see her again ; 
but she will feel the better for a good cry.” 

u ‘ A broken-down school-ma’am,’ is she ?” replied Mr. 
Cleaveland. “ Well, if there is anybody on earth I pity, it 
is such a person as that ! What tortures they must undergo 
at their work before they are quite broken down ! Has she 
given up teaching entirely ?” 

“ No : I believe she expects to go back to her school next 
fall,” said Lilian, in an indifferent tone, vexed to find that 
she had awakened fresh interest where she had intended to 
excite contempt. “ Mrs. Preble brought her here for a 
change of air. It isn’t really so bad as you suppose. I only 
meant that she is tired, and that makes her cross. It is 
partly, no doubt, because she has been accustomed so long to 
give orders, and be obeyed, that she cannot bear opposition 
of any kind, even in sport.” 

“ Her nerves are evidently unstrung,” he replied, seriously. 
“ I hope she is improving in this bracing air. She looks 
cheerful and bright. I noticed that her color was fresh and 
healthy yesterday when she was walking.” 

“ Dear me ! now he has got the medical craze again !” 
thought Lilian, and she made haste to turn the conversation 
to another subject. 


DISCOVERIES. 231 

Meantime, Mrs. Preble and Laura were consoling Sarah 
by talking over the affair in a sensible manner. 

“ I don’t think Lilian meant to hurt your feelings,” said 
Mrs. Preble. (“ Yes, she did!" murmured Sarah.) “And, 
even if she was unkind, it is not worth noticing. Mr. Cleave- 
land has too much good sense to believe such an insinuation, 
and Mr. Peering knows that you treated him just as the rest 
of us did.” 

“ Yes, I am sure he believes that I made the mistake 
honestly,” said Sarah, smiling, in spite of her tears, as she 
recalled the comical scene in the dining-room, “ if Mr. Cleave- 
land does not put some other idea into his head.” 

“ There is not the slightest danger of that,” said Mrs. 
Preble, confidently. “ So be a good girl and wash your eyes 
in cold water, or you won’t look fit to go to prayer-meeting. 
It is almost time.” 

“ You may believe it or not,” said Sarah to Laura, as she 
tied on her hat before the glass, “ but when I have done 
wrong, or anybody has wronged me, nothing does me so much 
good as to go to meeting and join in the pastor’s prayer. 
Next to that is praying by myself at home.” 

“ I do believe it,” said Laura, affectionately. “ That is 
your 1 doxy.’ My 1 doxy’ is to make wrong right, so far as I 
can, and try to do better in future, and not think of the 
trouble more than I can help. The last part is, practically, 
the only difference between us. You waste time and make 
yourself miserable by mourning so much over real or fancied 
sins.” 

“ But, Laura, help does really come when we ask for it in 
the right spirit,” said Sarah, earnestly. 

“ Does it? Well, I am glad, for your sake,” was Laura’s 
reply, as she went back into her mother’s room. 

When the two girls went down stairs they met Lilian and 
Mr. Cleaveland, who had just come in from the garden. It 
was an awkward moment, but Lilian was equal to the occa- 
sion. Under ordinary circumstances she would have let 
Sarah alone, to come out of her sulks when she got ready, 
and would have resumed their usual intercourse without refer- 
ence to past hostilities ; but she knew it would not do now to 
ignore what had happened, and so she stopped Sarah at the 
foot of the stairs, and said, — 


232 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL . 


“ I am sorry if I offended you. I only meant to tease 
you a little, because you and Mr. Peering have been such 
good friends, and I never thought that you would take it in 
earnest.” 

Sarah colored, and the tears came again into her eyes. “ It 
is no matter,” she replied. “ I ought not to have noticed it, 
I suppose.” 

Laura hastened to help them both out of their embarrass- 
ment, by saying, — 

“ We must go on, or we shall be late.” 

And Lilian answered, — 

“ Perhaps Mr. Cleaveland and I will walk up there by and 
by and escort you home.” 

“ Where are they going ?” he asked, as the two girls went 
down the street. 

“ Oh, to the Wednesday evening prayer-meeting in the 
vestry-room of the Orthodox meeting-house. Sarah considers 
it her duty to go every week, and Laura is her shadow. It 
is such a beautiful evening ! wouldn’t you like to go after 
them with me in about an hour ? The moon will be up by 
that time.” 

“ Very much,” he answered, and then she sat down on the 
lowest stair, and he sat down on the door-step, and they 
chatted away, as young people are apt to chat when one of 
them is self-conscious and the other is wide awake and on 
the lookout for revelations of character. Now was Lilian’s 
chance to begin her sentimental complaint ; but, somehow, 
the subject did not seem to fit into their discourse, and she 
had an instinctive feeling that if she were to remind him 
of his injustice abruptly he would laugh it off and there 
would be an end of trying to approach him on the pathetic 
tack. 

“ I shall have a better opportunity some day,” she thought, 
u and then I shall be glad I didn’t lug it in ‘ by the head and 
shoulders’ to-night.” 

So she wisely refrained from arrieres-pensees , and gave 
herself up to the enjoyment of the moment. He asked her 
all manner of questions about her way of life, her studies, 
her social pursuits, her ideas concerning this, that, and the 
other, and she answered fluently, being shrewd enough to 
perceive that he wanted to understand her better, but too 


DISCOVERIES. 


233 


much occupied with herself to notice that he made no com- 
ment upon her narrative and gave no confidence in return. 

The moon rose and lighted up the silent street. Mr. 
Cleaveland looked at his watch and said, — 

“ It is now just an hour since the young ladies started. 
Shall we walk up that way ?” 

She got her things, and they sauntered slowly up the hill, 
but, finding, as they passed under the lighted windows of the 
vestry, that the services were not yet over, they went on to 
the head of the street and came down pn the other side. 
They met a good many other couples, mostly young girls 
walking with young men, and after Lilian had recognized 
Lucindy and Almiry, the two kitchen queens of the Acadian 
Hotel, in the throng, she suspected that she had chosen a 
rather plebeian promenade, and crossed hastily to the other 
side, where nobody was to be seen. 

“ Let us wait on the steps till they come down,” she whis- 
pered, sitting down as she spoke. He seated himself beside 
her, and they kept still, not venturing to talk, lest their voices 
should be heard above the murmuring sound of the closing 
prayer. The murmur ceased at last ; there was a slight rus- 
tling sound, and a moment afterwards a full accord of voices 
broke into sacred song : 

“Jesus, lover of my soul, 

Let me to thy bosom fly,” 

began the melodious hymn, the singers keeping perfect time 
and enunciating every word so distinctly that the couples stroll- 
ing by on the other side of the street paused in their walk, 
and applied the glowing invocation to their own mutual senti- 
ment, as they gazed into each other’s eyes by the mild light of 
the moon. 

“ How well they sing !” exclaimed Mr. Cleaveland, softly. 
“ And hark ! there is another voice, far better than all the rest. 
It is glorious !” 

Lilian at once recognized Laura V clear and sympathetic 
tones, but she made no reply, and the two listened in silence 
until the hymn was finished, and then they stepped down to 
the sidewalk to wait for their companions, who were among 
the last to come down, and, when they did appear, Mr. Peer- 
ing was with them. 


20 * 


234 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL. 


“ Let us take a walk somewhere,” he said, as soon as he 
saw the others : “ it would be a shame to go directly home in 
such moonlight as this.” 

The proposal was received with applause. The next thing 
to be settled was as to where they should go. 

“ It is too far to the light-house,” said Mr. Deering, “ and, 
besides, we were there yesterday. Let us go up to the fort : 
we shall get the best view of the islands there.” 

So they went gayly up the street, Mr. Cleaveland and Lil- 
ian in advance, Laura and Sarah behind them, and Mr. Deer- 
ing contentedly bringing up the rear, though he found room 
to walk beside the girls as soon as they had turned the corner 
and exchanged the narrow plank walk for the road. 

“ You ought to have gone to meeting this evening,” he 
called out to the couple ahead. “ Miss Preble made a great 
sensation in the last hymn.” 

“ So it was you ?” exclaimed Mr. Cleaveland, turning around 
suddenly and smiling at Laura. “ Why in the world have 
you kept us so long in ignorance of your wonderful voice?” 

“ You have been here only three days. Did you expect me 
to rush at you on your arrival and tell you how well I can 
sing?” she answered, merrily. 

“ Well, no. I suppose I must discover your gifts and graces 
by degrees,” he replied, in the same tone. “ But I warn you, 
now I have found you out, I shall not give you any peace. I 
am so fond of good music.’ * 

“ Perhaps you sing yourself?” suggested Laura. 

“ Oh, after a fashion. I have never studied music, but I 
have heard enough of the best to recognize excellence when 
I meet with it, and to know better than to attempt singing 
myself, when there is anybody within hearing. Do you sing, 
Miss Thorne?” 

“ Oh, as you do, — after a fashion,” was the answer, with a 
tender lingering on the “you” She did not like him calling 
her “ Miss Thorne” when she was close beside him, especially 
after he had employed the “ you” alone in addressing Laura, 
who was behind him. 

“ And there is Miss Davis,” he continued, turning politely 
towards her. He remembered suddeuly that he ought to show 
that young lady particular attention, on account of her unhap- 
piness in the garden ; and so the next time they all stopped to 


DISCOVERIES. 


235 


admire the moonlight on the water, he took advantage of 
Laura’s having something to say to Lilian about a letter, to join 
himself to Sarah and keep beside her until they reached the 
fort. 

“ No, I don’t sing worth hearing,” she said. “ But you 
ought to have seen the people look at Laura to-night ! I am 
sure they will ask her to sit in the choir while she is here. If 
they thought that so fine, I wonder w r hat they would say to 
some of her grand operatic pieces ?” 

“ That was a grand operatic piece, or at least a part of one,” 
said Laura, who had overheard the remark. “ It was the 
Prayer from 1 Der Freischiitz,’ set to a hymn. Luckily, the lady 
who sat next me handed me her book, when it began, other- 
wise I might have forgotten myself and sung the German 
words. It sounded so like old times to hear it.” 

“ I wonder you never sang before at prayer-meeting,” said 
Lilian, who suspected that Laura had chosen this occasion for 
showing off, in the hope that Mr. Cleaveland might be within 
hearing. 

“ I never had a book before,” she replied. “ Sarah and I 
generally sit in the back part of the room ; but to-night the 
seats were nearly full when we got there, and we were sepa- 
rated.” 

“ Now you must sing something for our especial benefit,” 
said Mr. Cleaveland, as they stood upon the northwest bastion 
and drank their fill of the exceeding beauty of the night. 

“ I must be careful what I sing and how I sing it, in such 
a scene as this!” replied Laura, and then they waited while 
she thought of something appropriate to the time and place. 
After a few moments of silence, a tone so pure that it seemed 
like an audible ray of the surrounding moonlight came float- 
ing out upon the listening air : 

“ Es war als hatt* der Himmel 
Die Erde schon gekiisst.” 

One, at least, of her auditors was able to appreciate the ex- 
quisite taste displayed in the rendering of that idyl of a sum- 
mer night. He noticed the careful restraint, under apparent 
freedom, of the first couplet, then the gradually increasing 
breadth of tone to suit the widening area of description, and 
at last the full outburst of tender longing and eager aspiration, 


236 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL. 


as the girl’s voice was borne high and far upon the wings of 
song. “ That cannot be entirely art,” he said to himself. 
“ She must possess a great deal of natural feeling, or she could 
not sing with so much expression.” 

They all admired the song, and Mr. Cleaveland, who walked 
beside Sarah on the way home, gave her a free translation of 
the text. 

“ I wish I understood German,” she said. “ But there is 
so much to do in term-time that I have no chance to learn 
anything new.” 

Whereupon Mr. Cleaveland drew her out respecting her 
life as a teacher, and joined heartily in her disapproval of the 
present system of two sessions a day. His friendly sympathy 
removed the sorrow from the “ broken-down school-ma’am’s” 
sensitive heart, and she went to bed feeling sure that Mr. 
Cleaveland did not believe her capable of having carried on 
her acquaintance with Mr. Deering under false puetences. 

That suspicion removed, her way was plain before her, and 
she went on in it in her usual straightforward manner. It 
did not occur to her to appear shy in Mr. Deering’s presence 
because of the discovery of his bachelorhood, nor to shorten 
her discussions upon school matters w r ith him at table lest the 
others should think she was trying to “ catch” him. She did 
not even think it meant anything when, a few days later, he 
met her in the hall as she was going up-stairs after breakfast 
and invited her to accompany him that afternoon on a visit 
to a country school a few miles off the Neck. It was the last 
day of the term, he said, and there was going to be some kind 
of an exhibition by the pupils. She accepted the invitation 
with thanks, and then hurried up-stairs to tell Mrs. Preble 
and ask whether she had done right in promising to go. 

“ Why, yes. I don’t see any harm in it,” said Mrs. Preble, 
repressing a smile. “ But you’d better wear your brown 
travelling-dress. The roads are pretty dusty.” 

“ He is coming with the carriage directly after dinner, so 
my going won’t spoil your nap,” said Sarah, as she went to 
her own room to settle herself at her usual work. 


THE REWARD OF MERIT 


237 


CHAPTER XXVI. 

THE REWARD OF MERIT. 

It was long after supper-time when the two returned from 
their excursion. Mr. Peering drove off immediately to take 
the horse and carriage back to the livery-stable, and Sarah 
went up-stairs without looking into the dining-room to see 
whether the others were there. As she opened the door 
of Mrs. Preble’s chamber, she saw that lady seated upon the 
sofa, quietly occupied with her tatting. 

“ Oh, I am so glad you are here alone !” cried Sarah, in a 
voice hoarse from emotion, as she hurried across the room 
and sat down beside her aunt. “ What do you think has 
happened ?” 

“ I can guess,” was the answer, as the kind-hearted woman 
dropped her work and put her arms around the excited 
girl. 

Mrs. Preble was not a demonstrative woman, and Sarah 
was still more reserved in the expression of feeling. Even 
now they did not kiss each other, and the embracing arms 
soon relaxed their pressure and stole away to rest upon their 
owner’s lap. 

“Now tell me all about it,” she said. 

“ It was such a surprise !” exclaimed Sarah. u It never 
entered my head that he was thinking of me in any particular 
way ; but he says he has liked me from the first. I am 
thankful I made that blunder ; for I presume I should not 
have felt so much at my ease if I had not supposed him to 
be a married man. 

“ But you mustn’t think it is all settled yet,” she con- 
tinued. “ I told him I would think it over and talk with you 
about it. I wasn’t at all sure that I had the right kind of 
feeling for him. Of course one can’t change in a minute, 
from friendship to love. But I respect him very highly, and 
I like everything 1 know about him. Don’t you, Aunt Lucy ?” 

“ I think he is an excellent man,” replied Mrs. Preble, 
warmly. “ His temper is like sunshine. And that is just 


238 LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL. 

what you need to cheer you up. You have lived in the shade 
long enough.” 

These few words seemed to bring to Sarah’s mind all the 
weariness she had endured in the past, all the dreariness she 
had anticipated in the future. She burst out crying, and, 
springing up from the sofa, hurried into her own room, where 
she threw herself on the bed and gave way to an agony of 
tears. 

Her aunt followed in a few moments. 

“ Don’t cry any more than you can help, Sarah,” she said. 
“ I am afraid you will bring on one of your headaches. I am 
going down to get you a cup of tea and something to eat. I 
will say all that is necessary to Mr. Deering. He will prob- 
ably want to speak to me, and I want to have a little talk with 
him. Will that suit you?” 

“ Yes. I can’t see him again to-night, Aunt Lucy.” 

“ There is no need of it. He can’t expect you to have 
made up your mind in these few minutes, and he will under- 
stand that so great a change in your prospects must be agi- 
tating to your feelings. You just lie still and try to think 
of your present good fortune and forget your old troubles.” 

Mr. Deering was walking up and down the dining-room as 
Mrs. Preble entered. He went to her at once and held out 
his hand, which she shook heartily, giving him at the same 
time a happy smile. 

“ Has Miss Davis told you ?” he asked. 

u Yes. And I am very glad for you both,” she answered. 

“ Then you think she will find that she likes me well 
enough to marry me ?” he pursued. 

“ I think she will. She has enjoyed your society very 
much from the beginning ; but we all thought until the other 
day that you were married, and of course she cannot change 
the nature of her feelings all at once. She has had a rather 
doleful life of it, poor girl, and I am rejoiced to know that 
henceforward she is likely to be taken good care of. We have 
invited her several times to live with us ; but she preferred to 
be independent and support herself. She is a dear, good girl. 
There is nothing in her disposition which would be likely to 
cause her husband unhappiness.” 

“ I am certain of that,” he replied. “ I think we are well 
suited to each other ; and I assure you I will do my best to 


THE REWARD OF MERIT. 


239 


make her happy. I have been telling her this afternoon about 
my affairs, how I am situated, where I expect to live, and so 
forth. She will tell you. My home is so near that you can 
find out all about it and about me. I hope you will come over 
to Belfast and get acquainted with my family and see how you 
like us all.” 

“ It would be very pleasant/’ said Mrs. Preble. “ I will 
leave you now to eat your supper in peace. I am sure you 
must be hungry after your long drive. You must excuse 
Sarah for not coming down. She is feeling very sorrowful 
just now. Such a great change in her life is exciting, you 
know. But you must not think that she is prone to tears. 
She is one of the bravest and most patient women I know of : 
her self-control is admirable under ordinary circumstances.” 

“ I have been watching her all this time,” he answered, 
with a bright twinkle in his blue eyes. “ I know she is as 
sweet and good as she can be. Perhaps it is just as well that 
I am obliged to go away early to-morrow morning, to be gone 
a week or more. She will have time to think it all over. Say 
good-by to her for me.” 

He opened the door for Mrs. Preble to pass out with ; 
Sarah’s supper, and shut it to go back to his own meal. 

“ He is just the same all through,” mused the lady, — 
“ simple and frank, and as good-natured as the day is long.” 

Sarah had had leisure to bid a tearful farewell to her hard 
times and lonely prospects and to begin to enjoy the new 
brightness of her life, before the young people returned from 
their walk. She was sitting by the window in Mrs. Preble’s 
room, looking out upon the moonlit sea and talking quietly 
with her aunt, when she heard their voices below. 

Lilian and Mr. Cleaveland went through the house into 
the garden, but Laura came directly up-stairs. 

“ Oh, there you are,” she cried, as she opened the door. 
“ Did you have a pleasant time ?” 

" Yes, very,” said Sarah, demurely. 

“ Allow me to present you to the future Mrs. Peering, ” 
said her mother, with a nod at Sarah. 

“ No !” exclaimed Laura. “ You don’t mean it ! Is it true, 
Sarah ?” 

“ I don’t know, I am sure,” replied Sarah. “ I haven’t 
had time to make up my mind yet.” 


240 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL. 


“ Oh, then it is true, and I am so glad, so glad !” she cried, 
waltzing up to Sarah. “ Now I am going to kiss you ; and 
you needn’t wince ; I know you hate it, a little more than I 
do, even, but it has got to be done. I will begin with your 
forehead ; that is where lovers begin, according to some of 
the novel-writers. You see, I just touch my lips to your 
brow. And here are two little nips, one for each cheek, such 
as fashionable young ladies give whenever they meet, after 
the French fashion. And here is a good, honest, bouncing 
smack for your lips. There ! that is the way they kissed in 
John Alden’s time. If the people down-stairs heard, they 
thought it was Mr. Deering : so there is no harm done. I am 
sure he went straight to Mrs. Turner with his good news.” 

“ Now tell me all about it,” added Laura, flinging her hat 
on the bed and drawing a stool beside Sarah’s arm-chair. 
“ Did he offer himself as soqn as he got out of towu and into 
that land of romance, 1 off the Neck’ ?” 

“ No. He didn’t say anything of the kind until we were 
coming home. All the way there he was talking about 
Belfast and about his home and family. I hadn't an idea 
that he meant anything in doing so. You remember Mr. 
Deering’s house, Laura?” 

“ Yes, and you admired it so much. We little thought it 
was going to be your home. How strangely things do turn 
out in this world ! I shall be afraid to admire any house 
after this, for fear I shall have to marry the young man who 
happens to live in it. And so he wants you to live there 
with the family ?” 

“ Yes. The house is very large, and there is room enough, 
and his parents are unwilling to have him leave home. He 
says his parents will be glad to have him marry and settle 
down. He is the oldest child, and when the property comes 
to be divided he is to have the house. That is the reason 
the brother bought another place when he married.” 

“ It is all very nice,” said Laura, a few moments after Sarah 
had finished her story. “ I give my consent and my bless- 
ing. Only to think that you won’t be obliged to go back to 
that dreadful school next fall ! But when are you going to be 
married ?” 

“ He said that, if I decided to take him, he hoped we 
might be married as early as October.” 


THE REWARD OF MERIT. 241 

44 Whew ! We shall have to 4 work our fingers to the bare/ as 
Frau Rosenberg said.” 

44 There will be no difficulty about that,” said Mrs. Preble. 
44 She will be married from our house, of course, and I shall 
give her her outfit. I am going to send her measure right 
away to Miss Greene, and her underclothing will be ready by 
the time we go home. The dresses we want to select our- 
selves. The house-linen is quickly made up, — nothing but 
plain hemming on a sewing-machine, you know.” 

“ She shall have some of my 4 old German’ towels,” said 
Laura. 44 You little thought you were making Sarah’s wed- 
ding-clothes when you began all that cutting-out, just to get 
rid of your superabundant rolls of embroidery and tatting.” 

44 I shall always think a great deal of the things made 
here,” said Sarah. 44 We have had such good times sewing 
in this pleasant chamber and looking out on the bay.” 

44 It is all so delightful, I can scarcely believe it !” ex- 
claimed Laura, after a fit of musing. 44 But> where is Mr. 
Deering all this time ?” 

44 I left him eating his supper when I brought up Sarah’s 
tea,” said Mrs. Preble. “ Sarah was feeling rather low- 
spirited, — it was such a surprise to her, — and so she didn’t 
want to see him again to-night. And of course he didn’t 
w T ant to see anybody else : so I presume he has taken himself 
off somewhere. He is going away early to-morrow morning, 
to be gone a week, and Sarah is to give him his answer when 
he comes back. I suppose it will be a favorable one, as you 
and I have taken it for granted that she is going to marry 
him.” 

44 Of course she is,” said Laura. 44 If she is in any doubt 
about her feelings by that time, I will begin to flirt with him, 
and that will soon bring her round.” 

44 No, don’t !” said Sarah, fondly. 44 For, if you do, I’m 
afraid he will forget all about me.” 

44 Now don’t begin to be deceitful, miss, or I shall think 
that prosperity isn’t going to agree with you. He had us all 
three to choose from, so far as his own taste went, and he 
chose you, like a sensible man as he is. Won’t Lilian be 
astonished ?” 

44 You mustn’t tell her at present,” said Mrs. Preble , — 44 not 
until after it is all settled on Mr. Deering’s return. He must 
l q 21 


242 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL . 


be the first one to know that he is engaged, of course,” she 
added, with a laugh. “ I think Mrs. Turner will be pleased. 
She almost worships Mr. Deering, and she has seemed to 
have a special fancy for Sarah since the time they were left 
here alone and went to North Castine together. By the way, 
Mr. Deering said he hoped we would all go over to Belfast 
and visit his friends while we are here.” 

“ Mrs. Turner said she was sure Mr. Deering would be in 
Congress some day, or else be Governor of Maine,” said 
Laura, gavly. “ Just think of that, Sarah ! Pray don’t look 
down upon your humble relations when you come to that 
high destiny. If I were going to be sorry about anything, 
it would be that she isn’t going to live in Castine. But 
never mind : we shall come up almost every summer and see 
her either here or there.” 

“ Where is Lilian all this time ?” asked Mrs. Preble. 

“ In the garden with Mr. Cleaveland, of course,” laughed 
Laura. 

“ So a flirtation has begun in that quarter already !” 

“ Oh, he behaves well enough. She began to make eyes at 
him the very first day. It is the best joke of the season that 
here she was all those weeks when she might have been with 
him at the Cove ! It is a good lesson to teach her to mind 
her mother.” 

“ Well, she ought to come in now. It is after ten o’clock. 
She can’t expect to make up for lost time by staying till mid- 
night with him in the garden alone. I shall call her if she 
doesn’t start soon. Or you might go down. He would be 
likely to take the hint, if she didn’t.” 

“ Yes, I’ll go down for a moment. I feel so glad, I want 
to stir around a little.” 

“ And I think I’ll go to bed,” said Sarah, rising at the 
same time with Laura. 

“ 4 Good-night, and pleasant dreams,’ ” said Laura. “ Oh, 
I forgot to ask what kind of an exhibition you had at the 
school.” 

“ It went off very well,” replied Sarah. “ The pupils re- 
cited pieces, and read compositions, and sang songs and hymns. 
There were several teachers there from other schools. Mr. 
Deering introduced me to them, and they were very agree- 
able. Afterwards we were invited to a house, and had tea 


THE REWARD OF MERIT. 243 

and coffee and cake. They all seemed to think a great deal 
of Mr. Deering.” 

“ I wonder if they supposed there was anything between 
you ?” 

“ No, I presume not. He hadn’t said anything yet, and 
so I didn’t feel embarrassed, and he spoke of me as a teacher 
from near Boston, spending the summer in Castine. He 
didn’t pay me any particular attention while we were there.” 

“ No doubt there are dozens of teachers dead in love with 
him. Won’t there be weeping and wailing when they find 
out that he is appropriated?” And, with this feminine 
argument in Mr. Deering’ s behalf, Laura dismissed her cousin 
to her rest, and then flew down-stairs to the garden. 

She found Lilian sitting in the arbor, and Mr. Cleaveland 
leaning against the wall at a convenient point for gazing with- 
out rudeness upon the handsome face beside him, which 
looked all the handsomer for the softening effect of moon- 
light. 

“ I couldn’t come before,” said Laura, as she approached. 
“ I was with Sarah.” 

“ Isn’t she well ?” asked Lilian, with a show of interest. 

“ She didn’t feel very well when she first came home ; but 
she is better now.” 

“ The sun was rather hot for a drive this afternoon,” said 
Mr. Cleaveland, as he started from his easy position and 
walked a little way down the path, evidently with the inten- 
tion of returning to the house. Laura seconded the motion 
by following him, and Lilian rose reluctantly, saying,— 

“ It is absolutely wicked to sleep away such moonlight as 
this !” 

“ Yes,” said Laura ; “ but the mornings are as beautiful as 
the evenings, and if we sit up all night we lose the next day.” 

“ I like the moonlight better than the sunlight,” answered 
Lilian, moodily. 

“I must tell Sarah something before I forget it,” said 
Laura, as soon as she was back in her mother’s room. She 
tapped on Sarah’s door, and, opening it without waiting for 
an answer, put in her head, but drew it back immediately. 
“ How stupid of me !” she whispered, as she closed the door 
softly. “ I ought to have known that she would be praying. 
That is the first thing with her, whether she is glad or sorry.” 


244 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL. 


In a little while Sarah called out, “ Come now, Laura,” 
and Laura went in. 

“ I only wanted to remind you of what Mr. Peering said 
when we passed those bushes the other evening, coming home 
from the light-house. Don’t you remember ? He said you 
looked like a wild rose. I just happened to think what a 
pretty coincidence it was, considering what had happened 
there before. Now , when you recall the rose-bush, you will 
think of his compliment to you , and not of Lilian’s attempt 
at flirtation with him. I believe you liked him then in your 
heart, and that is why you were so angry with her on that 
occasion.” 

“ Well, at any rate, I never should have found out that I 
liked him, if he really had been married. And she did act 
like a fool, that you must own.” 

“ It was absurd, of course, but it was nothing to what I 
have seen her do ; and hundreds of girls would have acted 
just so. You have no idea how young people carry on in 
society nowadays ! And there is no heart in it, either : it is 
all vanity and envy. I sometimes think there is only one 
thing that I despise more than I do a man, and that is a 
woman. But I must not keep you awake talking, or you 
will have a headache to-morrow. 

“ Your courtship, at least, is like a little bit of the good old 
times come back. It is a real New England romance ! And 
it is only a just compensation for the hard times you have 
had. I have always considered you as rather 6 picked upon 
by Providence,’ but now this makes it all right.” 


CHAPTER XXVII. 

A CONCERT IN PROSPECT. 

Notwithstanding Lilian’s avowed preference for moon- 
light, she seemed, the next morning, to enjoy the early stroll 
to Hatch’s Point as well as the others did. They stayed the 
whole forenoon under the trees, watching the sparkling waves 
as they broke upon the sandy shore, and talking of the wars 


A CONCERT IN PROSPECT. 


245 


which long ago disturbed this lonely region, and of the treas- 
ures of old coins buried in the woods which now and then 
are brought to light by accident. 

On their return to dinner they were met by Mrs. Preble in 
the hall. 

“ Who says that Castine is dull ?” she cried. “ If you 
only knew what is going to happen, and whom I have had 
for visitors this morning 1” 

It did not require much urging to discover the wonderful 
secret. There was going to be a concert for the benefit of 
the Orthodox church, and the pastor and the senior deacon 
had called to know whether Laura would consent to sing on 
the occasion. Her voice had enchanted them all at the 
prayer-meeting, and the leader of the choir had recognized 
trained skill as well as natural sweetness in her tones, and so 
they would be very glad if she would take the principal solos 
in the programme. 

“ Of course I could not give them any definite answer,” 
said Mrs. Preble. “ They asked a great many questions 
about you, and I was obliged to own that you had sung in 
concerts several times already. They were very polite about 
it, and I told them finally that I was sure you would be very 
glad to assist them if you felt well enough to sing in public, 
but that you were not very strong last spring and had come 
here for the air. So, if you want to sing, here is a chance ; 
if you prefer not to, you can easily excuse yourself.” 

“Well, I don’t know, I am sure!” began Laura. 

“Oh, do sing!” cried Mr. Cleaveland. “We all want to 
hear you in a large room. I presume the church is a very 
good place to sing in.” 

“ Yes, sing !” said Lilian. “ You have sung so much in 
public that it won’t hurt you, and it will be fun for us all to 
know about the concert from the very beginning.” 

The unexpected news formed the topic of conversation at 
dinner. Even Sarah forgot to feel conscious as she looked 
at the empty space between her chair and Mr. Cleaveland’s 
and remembered that in a few days her next neighbor would 
be in his usual seat again. 

On first hearing of the proposition, Lilian had felt a pang 
of envy at the idea of Laura’s thus distinguishing herself, 
and she had resolved to do all in her power to dissuade her 
21 * 


246 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL. 


from granting the request. But a second thought changed 
her intention. If Laura should not sing at the concert, she 
would sing elsewhere, — in the garden, on the water, in the 
woods. It was useless to try to keep her great gift a secret 
after her voice had once been heard. She would sing for Mr. 
Cleaveland, that was certain ; as for the people at large, they 
would probably devise ways and means to hear her, even if 
she should refuse to assist them now. And singing at the 
concert would involve much practice and many rehearsals, 
demanding several hours of each day, — precious hours to 
Lilian, who would not fail to make good use of them in 
securing Mr. Cleaveland’s society for herself alone. 

“ Aunt Lucy can’t hang around all the time,” she reflected, 
“ and Sarah will be likely to accompany Laura to church 
when she goes to practise. At any rate, I can get rid of her 
by making her angry at me.” 

Lilian need not have laid such deep plans ; for nobody ap- 
peared disposed to interrupt her long talks with Mr. Cleave- 
land. Mrs. Preble and Sarah had now so much to discuss 
that it was a relief to see Lilian sauntering down the garden- 
path with her book, and to know that she would stay there 
till noon if Mr. Cleaveland would stay with her, and, if not, 
that the two would probably stroll off somewhere by them- 
selves. 

Laura was in great demand. Either the leader, or some 
member of the choir, called for her every morning, and some- 
times she was obliged to spend a part of the evening at the 
church. Not that all the rehearsals took place in the gallery. 
On the contrary, the singers met usually at one another’s 
houses, and Laura used to come home with wonderful ac- 
counts of the delightful hours she had spent in handsome 
parlors, with graceful girls and intelligent men, singing good 
music, and, after work was over, partaking of the most deli- 
cious sponge-cake and raspberry vinegar she had ever tasted. 

“ I can assure you the people here are not at all behind the 
times,” she said. “ Those young ladies are well educated, 
every one of them, and they read a great deal. Two of them 
have charming voices, — well trained, too.” 

“ What are you going to wear ?” asked Lilian. 

“ My black grenadine, of course. I haven’t anything else 
here.” 


SEPARATIONS . 


247 


“ For mercy’s sake, don’t rig up in that black grenadine, 
as though you were a hundred years old ! Why don't you 
send home for some of your finery ?” 

“ Because I know the others are not going to dress much. 
It isn’t as though we were to stand out on a platform. We 
are to be in the gallery, a little narrow box of a place, and 
nobody can see anything of us excepting our heads and 
shoulders.” 

“ How perfectly absurd !” 

“ It is a great deal easier than to stand up high and dry 
before an audience. Just try singing in public once, and you 
will be glad of a chance to hide yourself in a gallery behind 
curtains.” 

“ But how can we see you ? The pews front the other 
way.” 

“ You are all to stand up and turn around and ‘ face the 
music,’ as some country congregations always do to this 
day.” 

“ I know it ; and how ridiculous it looks ! You’d never 
catch an Episcopalian turning his back to the altar and the 
clergyman !” 

“ Oh, well, you can do it for once, here. There isn’t any 
1 altar’ in this church, and the clergyman is only a pastor. 
No ‘ hocus-pocus’ about the establishment at all I” 


CHAPTER XXVIII. 

SEPARATIONS. 

Meantime, the days went by, and Mr. Deering’s week of 
absence was nearly elapsed. 

On Saturday morning, as Sarah went down a little after the 
others to breakfast, she was surprised to see him standing in 
the front door. The blood rushed to her face ; she felt like 
turning around and running up-stairs and hiding somewhere. 
But he came towards her at once and held out his hand. 

“ Well,” he said, looking eagerly into her face, “ what is 
the answer?” 


248 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL . 


His well-remembered blue eyes seemed to reassure her. 

She laid her hand in his, and said, — 

“ The answer is yes” 

He had only time for a firm pressure of her fingers when 
Lilian’s door opened, and they hurried to enter the dining- 
room before she should see them together. 

But the secret needed to be kept no longer, and before 
noon the whole family, and probably the majority of the 
inhabitants of Castine, knew that the Superintendent of 
Schools for the State of Maine and the lady teacher from 
“ near Boston” were going to make a match. 

Mr. Cleaveland’s congratulations were warmly expressed to 
both parties. He little thought that bis friendly attentions 
to Sarah the night they all walked up to the fort had con- 
tributed to the present agreeable crisis ; and yet it was so. 
For Mr. Deering, like most lovers, could not but believe that 
his chosen one was, or ought to be, an object of peculiar inter- 
est to every other man, and the danger of a rival in such a 
person as Mr. Cleaveland warned him to lose no time in en- 
deavoring to secure the treasure for himself. 

As for Mrs. Turner, her satisfaction was unbounded. Matters 
had turned out exactly as she had long been hoping they would. 
She had trembled for the happiness of her paragon during that 
brief period when Lilian’s dark eyes had rested upon him with 
transient favor, and she had mauy times feared that Laura’s 
superior attractions would render him blind to Sarah’s retiring 
virtues. 

“ He has chosen the right kind of a girl,” she said to Mrs. 
Gridley over the fence that afternoon. “ She is as bright as 
a dollar, and as neat as wax. She always makes her bed her- 
self, aud all her things are picked up so nice that there ain’t 
anything to do in her room, scarcely. And she always draws 
up her dress when she goes out to walk. Actually, the braid 
on her brown skirt ain’t worn off yet ! I must own that Miss 
Preble is real good about such things too ; but then she’s a 
city girl, with a dash about her, after all ; the other one is the 
best for Mr. Deering. I know the old folks will be pleased. 
I just wish I could be a mouse in the wall when he tells them 
about her.” 

But Mr. Deering had a better plan for pleasing his parents 
than Mrs. Turner had suggested. He wanted them to see 


SEPARATIONS. 


249 


Sarali, and lie wanted her to see them and to become familiar 
with his home before entering it as its mistress. Accordingly, 
he wrote to announce his engagement, and received, as he 
expected, a warm invitation for the whole party to come over 
to Belfast. His sister sent an apology for not bringing the 
invitation in person, a slight indisposition of the grandmother 
making it more prudent for her to remain at home. 

Mr. Peering hastened to lay the invitation before Mrs. 
Preble, and the ladies debated over it up* stairs by themselves. 

“ I would like to go,” said Mrs. Preble, “ but I think it 
is better for me to keep quiet. I am getting so well and 
strong that it would be a pity to undo it all by going visiting 
among strangers. It would make me as nervous as a witch 
to feel that I must exert myself to the utmost for two or three 
days running, and if I were to stay in my room, or keep from 
talking when with the family, they might think I was dis- 
satisfied, or something. Besides, it would be rather an impo- 
sition for four of us to come down upon them at once. You 
three girls must go. You will enjoy it very much.” 

“ Please leave me out,” said Lilian. “ I don’t care to go.” 

“You’d better,” said Mrs. Preble. “ It will give you a 
chance to see Belfast, and they will do everything they can 
to make the visit agreeable.” 

“ No, I’d rather stay here. Very likely some of the girls 
will come over from Mount Desert this week ; and what would 
they think if they should find me away, after my writing so 
often to urge them to come ?” 

They all knew that “ the girls” meant still more Horace 
Grinuell, and so they forbore to urge her further. 

But after the matter was settled a cold fear came over 
Lilian lest in refusing to join the party she had lost another 
chance of enjoying Mr. Cleaveland’s society under peculiarly 
favorable circumstances. He and Mr. Peering were such 
good friends, it was the likeliest thing in the world that he 
should be invited to go over with the others. She could not 
rest until she had asked him about it. 

No, he said, he was not invited. So she hugged her- 
self for her shrewdness in evading an arrangement which 
would involve a temporary separation from him, and waited 
impatiently for the coast to be clear for the better prosecution 
of the undertaking which at present filled all her thoughts. 


250 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL. 


For it was not an easy thing to captivate Mr. Cleaveland. 
He was very apt to turn the conversation upon sober subjects 
and abstract themes which had no interest for her, and in the 
discussion of which her feminine airs and graces, her niceties 
of dress, and her little coquetries of manner were entirely 
thrown away. Worse than this, he appeared to regret Laura’s 
absence and Sarah’s exclusive attention to Mr. Deering. It 
seemed as though he enjoyed better the evenings when they 
happened to be all together, talking and laughing about nothing 
in particular, than the prolonged zete-a-tete with which she 
daily favored him, and wherein he had a chance to carry on a 
most daring and exciting flirtation, — if he only would ! 

Lilian was quite right in suspecting that Mr. Cleaveland 
was not satisfied with his position. In the course of his varied 
experience with the opposite sex he had once tasted the dangers 
and inconveniences of propinquity, and had learned a lesson 
which he meant should last him his lifetime. 

During his mother’s long illness, a young lady, a distant 
relative, had assumed the post of companion to the invalid, 
and had made herself a great comfort to the mother and a 
great assistance to the son. He never thought of her in any 
other light ; but she soon gave herself up to a passion for him 
which nothing but the fear of being sent away from his pres- 
ence enabled her to conceal while his mother was alive. The 
breaking up of their intimate companionship after her death 
was the occasion of an outburst of long-suppressed feeling, 
which astonished as much as it irritated him. He found, to 
his dismay, that not only had his every friendly word and ac- 
tion during the long period of mutual usefulness been construed 
by the unhappy girl into a proof of affection, but that a belief 
in his intention of retaining her in his house as his wife was 
general among their gelations and acquaintances. Many a man, 
under such circumstances, would have sacrificed himself to a 
mingled sentiment of pity and honor ; but Mr. Cleaveland did 
not yield. His cousin was wealthy, therefore he could not 
show his appreciation of her past services by insuring her 
future against want ; neither would she be content with his 
friendship, since he could not offer love : so the only thing 
left for him to do was to avoid her entirely and trust to time 
for his justification. 

All that had happened years ago. The lady remained single, 


SEPARATIONS. 


251 


a melancholy wreck of her former health and vivacity. He 
knew that he was the cause of the change, and that many 
persons blamed him for his indifference ; but his conscience 
was clear, and he did not feel called upon to spoil his own 
future for the sake of gratifying another person’s gratuitous 
susceptibility. He did not despise the girl for betraying her 
feelings ; but he thought she might have displayed more for- 
titude, after the separation which her own conduct had ren- 
dered inevitable. 

In the present instance Mr. Cleaveland had been careful to 
avoid giving Lilian any reason for thinking that he sought her 
society exclusively. The tete-d-tetes were all of her providing. 
But he knew that the mere fact of their being much together 
would not only cause others to misunderstand his behavior, but 
would give her more power over his movements than he chose 
to allow any woman to exercise without his leave. 

Therefore he decided to employ this busy time before the 
concert in making several short trips which he had planned 
to undertake later in the season. An accident offered him 
an exceptionally agreeable opportunity for a tour among the 
Jakes and forests of the northern part of the State. 

It was just after accepting the invitation that he returned 
to the hotel to make preparations for the journey, and met 
Mrs. Preble and Lilian in the front door. 

“ So you will get rid of us all to-morrow,” he said to Mrs. 
Preble. “ And I shall have the glory of being the first to 
leave town, as I go by the stage.” 

“ Indeed ! Pray, where are you going ?” asked Mrs. Preble, 
while Lilian bent down, ostensibly to arrange her dress, but 
in reality to hide the pallor which was blanching her very lips. 

“ I am going to rough it in the woods awhile with Mr. 
George Witherle,” he answered. “ His wife usually accom- 
panies him, but she cannot leave home at present : their child 
is not well. I saw him just now, and happened to say that 
I thought of going off somewhere for a change, and he sug- 
gested that I should see something of the northern part of 
the State under his escort. It is a grand opportunity, for he 
is one of the most thoughtful men I have ever met, and he 
knows the Maine woods as well as Thoreau did.” 

“ How long do you expect to be gone?” asked Lilian, who 
had regained her composure. 


252 


LAVRA , AJS AMERICAN GIRL . 


“ Not more than a week or two,” he replied. “I don’t 
know whether he will return at the same time. I must not 
miss the concert. We shall see which has the more won- 
derful experiences to tell,” he added, nodding laughingly at 
her. 

“ I am not going to Belfast,” she answered, quietly. 

“Not going? I thought you were all going but Mrs. 
Preble,” he exclaimed. — “ Oh, then you will not be alone. I 
am glad of that,” he said, turning to the elder lady with a 
smile. 

Lilian watched all day for a chance to talk with Mr. Cleave- 
land alone. But he was out of the house most of the time, 
absorbed in such matter-of-fact business as getting heavy shoes 
mended and buying various articles of costume suitable for 
the trip. However, after supper the young people were all 
once more together in the garden. Laura had bidden a tem- 
porary farewell to her companions in musical practice, and was 
glad to be at liberty again. 

It was a lovely Evening. Camden Hills were purpling in 
the light of the setting sun, and a rosy flush lay upon the 
quiet sea. Venus shone yellow and clear between bars of 
gorgeous clouds ; the light-house signal sparkled like a star 
against the background of fir-trees, and in an opposite cove 
a pillar of fire betrayed the retreat of a pleasure-party and 
announced the coming delights of a “ tom-cod fry.” 

“ Somehow, Castine takes a deep hold upon one’s affec- 
tions,” said Mr. Cleaveland, in a rather melancholy tone. u It 
really makes me homesick to think of starting off to-morrow 
morning. You must all remember everything that happens 
while I am gone. I shall want to know the whole story when 
I come back.” 

Lilian thought he meant her to understand that he regretted 
having promised to go, now that he knew she was to stay ; but 
she could not answer, except by an expressive glance, which 
it was doubtful whether he could see in the gathering dark- 
ness, and Laura replied, — 

“ And you must take note of all you do, for our benefit.” 

“ I shall be glad to do so,” he auswered, “ though perhaps 
you will have forgotten all about me by that time. You 
who are going to Belfast will be so gay that you won’t want 
to hear bear-stories j and as for Miss Thorne, she will fail to 


SEPARATIONS. 


253 


recognize me on my return, just as she did when I first 
came.” 

“ How cruel !” thought Lilian. “ But it shows that he 
was really piqued by my appareut forgetfulness, and has been 
brooding over it ever since.” 

Distressed by these thoughts, she soon rose, and, pleading 
fatigue, bade a general good-night, and returned to the house. 

She listened as she went slowly up-stairs. The girls were 
stiH busy in the kitchen, and she had seen Mrs. Turner look- 
ing over accounts by lamp-light in the dining-room as she 
came up the door-steps. Nobody was above-stairs, that was 
certain, and nobody could see her from the arbor. 

She hurried to her room, lighted a candle, and hunted up 
a long piece of twine which had served to tie some of 
the packages in her trunk. After hastily measuring the dis- 
tance between her two windows with the string, she quietly 
opened the door and stole on tiptoe through the hall and 
down the long passage leading to Mr. Cleaveland’s room. The 
door was fastened, but the key was in the lock outside, and 
she entered without delay. There was enough light from 
the starry sky to enable her to see her way without stum- 
bling over the furniture, and she was at the window in a 
moment, slipping the string through a hole in the blind- 
fastening which was attached to the sill. Then she wound 
up the ends of the twine into a light roll, and, leaning out, 
threw it into her own window and hastened back to her 
chamber. 

That was the first step in a new game she was resolved to 
try. Mr. Cleaveland had taunted her enough with her sup- 
posed indifference : it was high time he understood her bet- 
ter. There was nothing to be gained by staying down in the 
garden with the others, especially as her seat happened to be 
as far as possible from his. But she would send him a little 
note ; she had a right to justify herself in his opinion, 
and a note was something he could keep, and she could ex- 
press herself so much better in writing than by word of 
mouth. Now she was glad that something had held her back 
when she was trying to get a chance to talk to him upon the 
subject. Very likely she would have stammered, or burst 
out crying, or done something to make him misunderstand 
her even more than before. 


22 


254 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL. 


She lit her lamp, and sat down by the table. As she 
opened her writing-case, she smiled in a self-satisfied manner. 

“ How queer it is,” she said to herself, “ that whenever I 
make an agreeable acquaintance, something is sure to come 
up to make it necessary to write a note to him ! Such chances 
never seem to happen to Laura. She fancies that she could 
write novels ! It requires just as much intellect to write 
letters to gentlemen ; and I have written enough to fill 
volumes.” 

Here is the note which Lilian, after much cogitation and 
many erasures, copied, as worthy of the occasion : 


il Room adjoining yours, 

Near midnight. 

“ Dear Friend, — For may I not call you ‘ friend,’ though 
you have treated me so cruelly ? — I feel that I cannot let you 
go away without explaining myself,— for who knows what may 
happen before we meet again, — if we ever do meet? You 
reproached me when you first came with having forgotten 
you, and intimated that I was careless and cold-hearted. I 
thought that after knowing me better you would reverse that 
decision, but to-night you repeated the taunt, and, as I have 
nobody here to speak a good word for me, I must e’en defend 
myself. Know then, that I am not heartless and indifferent ; 
I have feelings like other women. I am quite as susceptible, 
and quite as strong in my affections, as my cousin Laura, for 
instance. It was a mere accident that she remembered you ; 
indeed, it was rather the girls that she remembered ; and I 
knew in a minute that I had seen you before, though where 
I could not tell. I have been travelling so much this sum- 
mer, and seeing so many people, that I think I may be 
pardoned for not being able to name the very day and place 
when and where a stranger’s face made a deep impression 
upon me. As to that, you need not fear that any woman 
will ever forget you after having once seen you. And I 
claim to be able to appreciate beauty more understandingly 
and fully than most persons. But I must not flatter your 
vanity — if you have any. 

“ In conclusion, let me say that I was very much struck with 
your appearance , and longed to know who you were, and all 
about you, and, now that I do know you, I find the promise 


SEPARATIONS. 


255 


of your face more than fulfilled by the graces of your mind 
and heart. You need not have the blues while you are 
away for fear that you will be forgotten by 

“ Lilian.” 

“ P.S. — I can never sufficiently regret that I did not pass 
the early portion of the summer at the Cove. But it 
seemed best then for me to come up here, and you see Fate 
was determined to bring us together, in spite of everything. 

“ Yours, 

“ L. T” 

“ That will do,” said Lilian, with a nod, as she read over 
the dainty little letter and prepared to seal it with pink wax. 
After it was directed, she made a hole in one corner of the 
envelope, and slipped it upon the string which was hanging 
from her window-sill. Then she drew it carefully along 
until it reached the middle of Mr. Cleaveland’s window, when 
she tied the two ends, and closed her blinds to await the 
result. 

“ I wonder whether it would have been better to leave the 
note in his door, or on the table in his room,” she pondered. 
“ But this is much more romantic, and perhaps it will put 
the idea into his head to open a correspondence by way of 
the window.” 

Pretty soon she heard the party returning from the garden. 
She could see them through the slats. Mrs. Preble was in 
advance ; Laura and Mr. Cleaveland were close behind her, 
and Sarah and Mr. Deering sauntered along more slowly, as 
though they wished to have a word in private after the 
others had gone in. 

“ I suppose he is going to kiss her on the door-step, in real 
country fashion !” thought Lilian, with a sneer. 

“ I wonder whether that note showed from below !” she 
asked herself, in sudden alarm. “ If they saw anything 
white, they must have thought it was something he had put 
out to dry,” was the comforting conclusion, as she left the 
window and lay down upon the lounge which stood against 
the closed door communicating with the next room. 

Soon Mr. Cleaveland’s step came resounding up the stairs, 
— how she loved his firm, manly tread ! — and with a gay 
good-night he parted from the two ladies at their door, 


256 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL. 


and turned down the side-passage to his room. She heard 
him strike a match and stand still to light the candle. Then, 
with a low whistle, which sounded so distinctly through the 
door that it seemed to Lilian like feeling his breath upon her 
cheek, he went about the room, moving things here and 
there, and at last approached the window, where he stood a 
few moments, drumming with his fingers upon the sill. 

Suddenly he stopped drumming and stopped whistling. 
He had found the letter, she was sure ! She heard the crackle 
of the paper as he tried to take it off the string. There was a 
short delay, and then he drew a chair to the table, and she 
knew that her note was being read. He seemed to ponder 
over its contents. At last he rose and began to move about, 
the low whistle was resumed, the usual sounds of washing 
and tooth-brushing followed, and soon after the room was 
still. 

Lilian did not venture to rise from the lounge until some 
time after she was sure that her neighbor was in bed. She 
felt too excited to sleep, and so she amused herself by going 
over and over the sentences of her letter and imagining their 
effect. 

“ At least it is another tie between us 1” she thought, as 
she knelt to say her prayers. 

The last act before getting into bed was to open her blinds 
a very little, to observe the condition of the string. Yes, it 
had been cut. The letter was safe. 

And she pulled up the line and detached it from her win- 
dow-sill with as much satisfaction as Rahab felt when she 
drew in the scarlet cord after she had insured the safety of 
the spies. 

The next morning Lilian went down early to the dining- 
room, thinking it possible that Mr. Cleaveland might wish to 
speak to her alone. But he was the last one to come to break- 
fast, and his eyes gave no response to the meaning glances 
which she occasionally flashed at him during the meal. 

“ Of course he did not dare look at me in any particular 
way, with Aunt Lucy every instant on the watch,” she re- 
flected, as she sat at the window in her aunt's chamber and 
listened for Mr. Cleaveland’s step in the hall, while Laura 
and Sarah busied themselves in packing their satchels for a 
two days’ visit. 


SEPARATIONS . 257 

Soon came the expected knock at the door : the moment 
for farewells had arrived. 

It was a commonplace affair, after all. Mr. Cleaveland was 
evidently in a hurry, said he was afraid he should lose the 
stage, and refused to sit down. He shook hands with Lilian 
first, as she was nearest the door, then with Laura, and last 
with Sarah, who came out of her room to see him. Mrs. 
Preble was down- stairs, so he left his good-by for her, in 
case he should not see her on the way down. 

As he turned to leave the room, he said to Laura, “ Mind, 
I never shall forgive you if your concert come off ahead of 
time. ,, 

And she answered, in the same light tone, — 

“Never fear. We want your half-dollar too much to lose 
it through our own fault.” 

It was all over in a minute, and he was gone. Between the 
fever of anticipation and the chill of disappointment, Lilian 
felt so weak that she was glad to drop into her chair again 
and try to think down her chagrin. 

Presently Mrs. Preble came up, and reported that she had 
seen Mr. Cleaveland off. 

“ He said he was glad I was not going to be left alone,” she 
remarked. “ He is always so polite and thoughtful towards 
older people. I suppose taking care of his mother so long 
made him so.” 

“ It shows that he was thinking of me,” said Lilian to her- 
self, and then, for her further comfort, she 'remembered that 
when he shook hands with her he put his other hand up to his 
breast-pocket, where the end of a white envelope was visible. 
“ It was my letter, and he did that to let me see that he had 
it with him, — near his heart, too !” 

It was really a business letter containing a check, and he 
had put up his hand to see if it was safe, and was wondering 
whether he should have time to get it registered before the 
stage started ; but of course Lilian could not know that, and 
her theory was as near right as the fancies of girls are apt to 
be when they attempt to account for masculine ways and 
doings in the light of their own sentimental wishes. 


r 


22 * 


258 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL . 


CHAPTER XXIX. 

THE PEERING HOMESTEAD 

“ We had a grand time,” began Laura, as she lay resting 
on the sofa, while Mrs. Preble and Lilian sat in the two arm- 
chairs to hear the story, Sarah and Mr. Peering being down 
in the arbor, where they, no doubt, were also going over the 
experiences of the last two days. 

“ I must tell you all about it. In the first place, the family 
carriage was sent down to the wharf to meet us, and Miss 
Peering came in it. She is a very nice girl indeed, and looks 
as fashionable as you please. When we reached the house 
there was nobody to be seen. I suppose they didn’t come out 
for fear the neighbors on the other side of the street would 
see it all and guess what was up. 

“ But as soon as we came to the steps the door flew open, and 
there was the whole family, the father and mother first, then 
the old grandmother, and then the brother with his wife and 
the children. There was a regular tribe of them ! But it 
wasn’t a bit awkward, — principally, I think, because they didn’t 
go into the kissing business at all. They just shook hands 
and welcomed us in a sensible, friendly manner, and then we 
all went into the parlor, which was decorated with flowers in 
Sarah’s honor. And after a few minutes we were taken up- 
stairs to our room to get ready for dinner. Of course they 
looked more at Sarah and were more affectionate in their way 
of speaking to her than they were to me, but there wasn’t the 
least particle of ( gush’ about any of them, — which was a great 
relief to me, for I knew Sarah wouldn’t like it and would 
probably show that she didn’t.” 

“ I shouldn’t have expected any ‘ gush,’ ” said Mrs. Preble, 
“ Mr. Peering is always so matter-of-fact in his ways.” 

“ I know it ; but you never can tell how people will act on 
such an occasion, especially where there are so many women. 
And sometimes the father thinks he must do the pious, in the 
way of a blessing or an exhortation. I shall always like that 
family, they showed themselves such rocks of good sense at 


THE DEERING HOMESTEAD. 


259 


the first meeting. Well, we had a grand dinner, and served 
in good style, too. The table-cloth and napkins were like 
satin, — they weren’t new, either, — and the spoons and forks 
were solid silver. I took note of everything, on Sarah’s account, 
and really the child has fallen on her feet this time. It is 
enough to compensate her for all her past troubles. They are 
pleasant people, all of them. They seemed to adopt Sarah at 
once. They took her all over the house and showed her every- 
thing in it. I think they are delighted to have Mr. Deering 
get married. 

44 Both afternoons they took us to drive around town and into 
the country. A good many acquaintances of the family 
dropped in while we were there, but nobody was invited to meet 
us. They are going to give a large party soon after the wed- 
ding ; and of course there will be ever so many parties given 
in return. It will be a gay winter for Sarah. Just think of 
her, rigged up in silks and satins, and going off in her car- 
riage to be the principal guest in all those great square houses, 
instead of sitting up half the night correcting compositions in 
her little garret room in Billerica. The Deerings seem to 
stand very high in Belfast. You ought to see their garden 
and poultry-yard. And they keep two horses, and a cow, and 
a dog. And they have the most beautiful cat I ever saw, — 
my arms ache now with carrying her about, she was so heavy, 
— a real Maltese, only not so blue as most of them, a kind of 
silver-gray, with great balls of paws, and so good-natured that 
when she purs (and she purs if you touch her) it is a regular 
roar. Her name is 4 Button' ” 

44 Never mind the cat,” said Lilian, impatiently. 44 Tell us 
what you did.” 

44 Why, we didn’t do so very much, but the time passed 
swiftly and we enjoyed ourselves immensely.” 

44 Is the house handsomely furnished ?” 

44 Not what you would call so. The furniture is heavy and 
old-fashioned, but very good. Sarah and Mr. Deering are to 
have the two southeast chambers, and they are going to be 
fitted up in modern style. 

44 The room which took my fancy most was a kind of library, 
back of the parlor. There are book-cases around two sides, 
and they are built out so that the windows appear to be in 
alcoves. The curtains are crimson, and when the sun shines 


260 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL . 


through them the room looks as cosey as possible. I stole in 
one evening to see how it would look by moonlight, and there 
were our two lovers standing together in the little recess by 
the front window. His arm was around her waist, and they 
were both looking out at the moon. They didn’t hear me, 
and I made myself scarce without delay.” 

“ I suppose she was standing bolt upright, as stiff as a 
poker !” sneered Lilian. 

“ No, she wasn’t. Her head was leaning on his shoulder, 
and she looked as limber as you would under similar circum- 
stances. It was a very pretty picture.” 

“ Well,” said Mrs. Preble, with a long breath, “ I am glad 
it is all going on so happily. I hope they don’t mind because 
Sarah has no money to bring with her.” 

“ I don’t believe they think anything about that,” replied 
Laura, warmly. “ I am sure they couldn’t treat her with 
more respect if she were a queen. They were very polite to 
me, but they made a great deal more fuss over her. I don’t 
know when I have enjoyed anything so much as to see Sarah 
Davis the most important personage in a large family circle 
like that ! 

“ And she came out well, I assure you. She seemed to 
feel that she was really welcome, and she looked as pretty as 
a doll all the time. Altogether, the visit was a splendid suc- 
cess. I have more faith in the world, now I see that such a 
girl is going to meet with her reward. 

“ They want us all to stop there on our way back to 
Boston.” 


CHAPTER XXX. 

GIRLS IN COUNCIL. 

“ And what have you been doing ?” asked Laura, so soon 
as she was alone with Lilian. 

u Oh, nothing at all, of course. Some new people have 
come, but they are worse than none.” 

“ Who are they ?” 


GIRLS IN COUNCIL. 261 

“ A lady from Chicago, with two children and a nurse, 
and a step-daughter, — a girl seventeen years old.” 

44 That’s nice. She was some company for you.” 

44 Yes. It is amusing to hear her talk, for she has been 
in society a great deal already, and she isn’t at all afraid to 
relate her adventures.” 

“ Is she pretty ?” 

44 Why, yes, I suppose she would be called so. She has 
a kind of doll-face that is usually admired. She dances well. 
We have waltzed a good deal together in the parlor. You 
think the new round dances disgusting, as I dance them. I 
just wish you could see her perform the gentleman in the 
4 glide’ waltz as it is danced out West ! It is ten times worse 
than we do it in New York. We’ll show you, after tea.” 

They did show her, and Laura was properly disgusted. 

44 Now, Lilian,” said she, when the two were alone up-stairs, 
44 you needn’t tell me any more that all that embracing is only 
to give the necessary support in turning around so rapidly. 
You know better. And my opinion is that you will have to 
go to 4 confession’ pretty often to relieve yourself of the 
guilt of impure thoughts, if you persist in such practices. 

44 But you didn’t say half enough about Miss Hartwell’s 
looks. She is a little beauty ! And she has that pathetic, 
angelic look which is so appealing and bewitching. I feel, 
every time she turns her eyes on me, as though I had been 
doing her some great injury and she were reproaching me for 
it. I don’t see how people can look so demure and gentle 
when they are really such high-fliers ! She is as wild as a 
hawk, or, more properly, as a kitten, for she takes life all in 
play, so far.” 

44 She has been engaged three times already,” said Lilian. 
44 That doesn’t look much like play. She is wearing the 
spoils this very minute. You must have noticed her ex- 
quisite rings. Well, three of them are engagement-rings, — 
beauties, all of them.” 

44 But why didn’t she give them back when she broke the 
engagements ?” 

44 She says she did offer them, but they wouldn’t take them. 
And she laughed, and said it was a good way to get handsome 
jewelry, and now that her father was married again she couldn’t 
expect him to give her so many pretty things as formerly, and 


262 LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL. 

so she should keep on making young men pay for flirting with 
her.” 

44 I should think her mother would put a stop to such 
doings.” 

44 Oh, it’s her step-mother, and she’s a silly thing, besides. 
Miss Hartwell says she flirts too. She is a good deal younger 
than her husband.” 

44 They must be queer people.” 

“ At any rate, they belong to the best society in Chicago. 
I always told you that Chicago was worse than New York.” 

“ There are a great many well-behaved people in both places, 
and the well-behaved people are 4 the best society’ every- 
where,” returned Laura. “ But it provokes me to see such 
giddy, unprincipled folks giving the tone to a whole city.” 

44 She will be in the garden to-morrow,” said Lilian ; 44 and 
then we can draw her out. It is great fun to hear her talk 
when she once gets started.” 

As it happened, the next evening the three girls had the 
garden to themselves. Mrs. Preble chose to rest in her own 
room, Mrs. Hartwell was kept in hers by the fretfulness of 
her teething baby, and Sarah and Mr. Deering had started off 
for a walk soon after supper. 

44 Well,” exclaimed little Miss Hartwell, as she leaned 
against the fence and surveyed her companions, 44 it seems to 
me that the feminine element is rather too strong in this 
house. How in the world have you been able to stand it so 
long ? There must be young gentlemen enough in this town. 
Why don’t you drum ’em up ?” 

44 I don’t think there are many,” said Laura. 44 Probably 
you have the flower of them out West. If there are any left, 
I’m sure I couldn’t be so cruel as to try to draw away their 
attention from the Castine girls.” 

44 I saw a right nice-looking fellow on the wharf the day I 
came,” resumed Miss Hartwell. 44 He had a head like a 
poet. I’m bound I’ll find out who he is. He looked like a 
student ; but just as like as not he’s only a clerk in a store.” 

44 How are you going to find out ?” asked Lilian. 

44 Oh, in the first place, I shall go the round of the stores 
and ask for wide blue silk fringe. That is something you 
never can find, and so you’re not obliged to buy. If they do 
happen to have it, it is easy to say that it isn’t the right shade. 


GIRLS IN COUNCIL. 2(53 

I can see in a minute whether he is there. If he is, I can 
soon scrape acquaintance with him.” 

“ And if he isn’t ?” suggested Lilian. 

“ Then I shall probably come across him in the street or on 
the wharf. Then I just drop my handkerchief, and he picks 
it up, and the thing is done. That’s the way we girls do in 
Chicago when we want to get acquainted with a student. We 
drive slowly past the college buildings when the classes are 
coming out, and when we see the right one we drop the whip, 
or a handkerchief, or a veil, or something.” 

“ But suppose ‘ the right one’ doesn’t come forward,” said 
Laura. 

“ Well, at any rate he stops and looks on, and we give him 
a glance that fixes him while we are thanking the one who 
picks up our things.” 

“ But of course they all know it is a trick,” persisted Laura. 

“ Of course they do. But it gives them the opportunity 
they want, don’t you see ? And the rest happens naturally.” 

“ Chicago is a very gay city, isn’t it ?” asked Laura. 

“ I guess you’d think so,” replied the little beauty, with a 
toss of her angelic head. “ St. Louis is pretty gay, but Chi- 
cago is ever so much nicer. We have dancing-clubs in the 
winter, and sleigh-rides, and surprise-parties, and everything 
you can think of. Do you have surprise-parties in Boston ?” 

“ No, I am happy to say we do not” said Laura, emphat- 
ically. “ I don’t believe in them. It seems to me very rude 
for a troop of people to invade another person’s house with- 
out leave.” 

“ Oh, but we are all good friends,” replied Miss Hartwell. 
“ And we never go when there is sickness in the house, or 
when the family are in deep mourning. It saves the expense 
of a great entertainment, and it gives some people a hint to 
be more hospitable. When we are all agreed that certain per- 
sons are too quiet and that their large parlors are not doing 
anybody any good, we just come down upon them and dance 
and carry on till morning, and it rouses them up, and they give 
more parties of their own accord after that.” 

“ That is what I call social tyranny,” said Laura. “ And 
you would never do it more than once in my house,” she 
added, severely. 

“ Oh, I know you Boston folks ! You’re all for ‘ culture,’ ” 


264 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL. 


replied Miss Hartwell, good-humoredly. “ There are ever so 
many such people in Chicago, too, but they keep to themselves, 
and nobody knows anything about them. 1 believe in having 
a good time in the world ! We’re going somewhere every 
night. And if we give a party, or take a journey, or have 
visitors staying with us, it’s always in the papers.” 

“ That is another astonishing feature of Western life,” cried 
Laura. “ I should think you would all wage war on the edit- 
ors for making your affairs so public.” 

“ Why, mercy, no ! The ladies are glad enough to have a 
reporter call on them for particulars. And when it comes to 
describing dresses, it is really necessary to write it all out. If 
you don’t, the reporters make dreadful blunders, especially 
about lace.” 

“ But, pray, what business is it of theirs ? And what good 
does it do for strangers to read what you wore at a party ? 
The people who were there saw your dress, and that is enough.” 

“ Well, it brings you into notice, don’t you see?” 

“ Yes, I do see. And it would be a great deal better for 
young girls not to be brought so much into notice, it seems to 
me. I was reading one of your Chicago papers this morning 
in the parlor, and I was perfectly astonished at the items in 
the 4 personal’ columns. It told how Miss A. was visiting 
Mrs. B., and how Mr. and Mrs. C. were gone East, and how 
Master D. had given a party to sixteen of his playmates, and 
how the Misses Josie and Sallie something or other had gone 
back to school at Farmington. Now, of what earthly use to 
anybody is such information as that?” 

44 Oh, it will tickle those girls mightily to see their names 
in the paper ; they will show it about, and the other girls in 
the boarding-school will think they must be somebody, to be 
noticed like that.” 

44 Well, it seems to me in bad taste all round,” said Laura. 

“ You’ve been in Europe a good deal, haven’t you ?” asked 
Miss Hartwell, after a pause. 

44 Yes. Two years the first time, and five years the second.” 

44 I’m just crazy to go ! And we were going last summer, 
if that everlasting baby hadn’t come ! Everybody goes. It’s 
a shame and disgrace not to have been there.” 

44 Oh, not so bad as that,” said Laura, gayly. 44 Perhaps it 
is just as well for you to wait awhile : you will be older and 


GIRLS IN COUNCIL. 265 

steadier. And it wouldn’t answer to act abroad as you do at 
home.” 

“ I’d make it answer ! They’re altogether too slow over 
there, by all accounts.” 

“ Perhaps so. But you are too young and too pretty to 
undertake the task of educating them up to the right stand- 
ard. And if you were to go about dropping your handker- 
chief and your whip in foreign cities, you would be taken for 
an improper character, that’s all.” 

“ That shows how mean and vulgar they are !” cried Miss 
Hartwell. 

“ And it shows how careful we must be to avoid being 
misunderstood,” replied Laura. “ And there is another evil 
which you do not take into account. Our young men at home 
are frightened out of the idea of marrying, because so many 
of the girls are giddy and extravagant. Then they go abroad 
and travel in England, where the young ladies are so very 
proper, or on the Continent, where the girls are so simply 
dressed and so domestic, and they think, ‘ That is the kind of 
wife for me!' and so they marry a foreigner. If we don’t 
take care they will all do so.”* 

“ That won’t happen in our day. There’ll be enough left for 
me. 1 And after me the deluge!’ You see I do know a little 
bit of history, for all you think 1 am so ignorant and silly.” 

Laura looked up surprised. There was a flush on the little 
beauty’s face, and her pathetic blue eyes looked more accusing 
than ever. It was plain that she fancied herself at bay be- 
tween two merciless pursuers. And, indeed, Lilian’s manner 
was not very encouraging. She had taken no part in the con- 
versation, but had kept her eyes fixed upon Miss Hartwell 
with an expression of curiosity and contempt which the latter 
was not slow to perceive. Even now, Lilian did not think it 
worth while to disclaim ; but Laura hastened to remove the 
unpleasant impression which her disapproval had caused. 

“ Indeed, you are mistaken,” she said, kindly. “ You are 
bright enough. You only want to cultivate quietness. You 
are so beautiful that you are sure to attract attention and 
admiration wherever you go, and it would be a pity to spoil 
it all by acting in a wild way. 

“ Don’t you sing or play ?” she asked of the young girl, 
whose cheeks had resumed tlieir natural apple-blossom tint. 

M 23 


266 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL . 


“Yes, a little.” 

“ Then don’t stop at 1 a little.’ Go on and see what you 
can do. You’ll be sorry one of these days if you waste all 
your time in gayety. Besides, it doesn’t suit your style to be 
too frolicsome.” 

“ I know,” laughed Miss Hartwell, in high good humor. 
“ You mean I look like a nun, or a Madonna. That is what 
everybody tells me. But I don’t feel a bit like either.” 

“No, and I hope you will never quite grow to your face. 
You would have to suffer a great deal to feel as you look.” 

But, although Miss Hartwell duly recognized Laura’s desire 
to be friendly, and had been piqued by Lilian’s contemptuous 
silence in the garden, still it was towards Lilian that she 
naturally gravitated. Nor was Lilian averse to the temporary 
intimacy, after she had satisfied herself that the plans of the 
Hartwell family would necessitate their departure from Cas- 
tine before the time for Mr. Cleaveland’s return. 

The two girls spent much of the time in Lilian’s room, 
Miss Hartwell making no secret of her indifference towards 
her baby half-brother and her dislike of her five-year-old 
step-sister, while she took pains to show her independence 
of her step-mother in every way short of open disagreement. 

“ She chose to marry my father, and now she can take care 
of her own young ones, for all of me,” she would exclaim, 
after some hint of a desire for assistance during the occasional 
absences of the nurse. 

“ For my part, I pity that little Minnie,” said Laura to her 
mother. “ She is hustled about and shoved away by them 
all. The nurse doesn’t care for her, because she isn’t a baby, 
and even her mother seems to prefer the little boy. As for 
Miss Hartwell, she fairly hates the child. She says she is 
nothing but a little spy : she listens and watches and tells 
of everything she sees and hears. They ought to provide her 
with some amusement, and then I dare say she would not 
meddle with other people.” 

So little Minnie became Laura’s companion in many a 
ramble, — sometimes, to her great delight, being allowed to 
attend a rehearsal for the concert, when she sat as still as a 
mouse in the corner of the dark gallery and listened with all 
her ears to the music and the talk. 


A MAN-OF-WAR. 


267 


CHAPTER XXXI. 

A MAN-OF-WAR. 

One morning, as Laura was returning from a solitary walk 
around “ the mile square,” she saw, coming up the inner bay, 
a strange craft which her practised eye recognized at once as 
a double-turreted monitor. 

“ It must be the ‘ Agamenticus,’ ” she cried, as she hurried 
down the hill. 

There was a crowd upon the wharf ; the flag was flying 
from the custom-house ; Castine was evidently in great ex- 
citement. 

Lilian saw her from the window of the upper hall. 

“ Don’t come up ; we’re coming down,” she cried, and in a 
moment she appeared, followed by Miss Hartwell, both attired 
in the jauntiest of hats, the airiest of mantles, the most im- 
maculate of head-gear. 

“ You always stay forever when you go off alone,” began 
Lilian. “ I was so afraid you wouldn’t get back in time for 
us to see the ship come in ! The whole town is down there 
already.” 

“ You needn’t have waited for me. Where is mother?” 

“ Oh, she and Sarah went off long ago, up to the fort. 
They won’t see anything ; but they won’t care.” 

“ But I don’t want to go down to the wharf,” said Laura, 
— “ especially without mother. The officers will probably come 
ashore, and Ned Simmons belongs to that ship.” 

“ All the better,” said Lilian, gayly. “ We shall have a 
better chance to see what is going on if you know somebody 
aboard. Let us walk down that way, at least. We can stay 
in the side-street if you won’t go any farther.” 

So the three hurried down the hill, and stopped in front of 
a blacksmith’s shop, where the road ran a little higher than 
the common level. 

“ This is an excellent place,” said Laura. “ We can see it 
all from here a great deal better than from the wharf.” 

“ No, it isn’t half so good as the wharf,” complained Lilian, 


268 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL. 


“ Dear knows, there is little enough going on here : we might 
as well go in for all that does happen !” 

So saying, she gave a signal to Miss Hartwell, and they ran 
down the street together, looking back and crying, “ You’d 
better come, too.” 

But Laura, not relishing the trick any more than the pro- 
posal, stayed behind, and, seeing a large block of wood lying 
in the grass beyond the shop, she went to it, and, seating her- 
self comfortably, looked with increasing interest upon the 
lively spectacle before her. 

The vessel had by this time nearly reached the wharf, and 
the waiting crowd was absorbed in watching the disciplined 
movements of the marines, while the officers on the upper 
deck were, in their turn, regarding the mass of humanity 
before them, not forgetting to single out the most attractive 
female faces for special observation, among which, no doubt, 
the charms of Lilian and Miss Hartwell received their due 
share of admiration. 

Soon the vessel rested at the wharf; there was a stir on 
shore, and a group of officers, accompanied by several of the 
citizens, started up the hill, followed more slowly by the crowd. 
Laura sat still, congratulating herself that she was too far from 
the main street to attract the attention of the passers-by ; but 
what was her surprise when two of the officers, with a gentle- 
man known to her through his connection with the choir, turned 
at the corner and came rapidly towards her. She rose as they 
approached, intending to pass them and go to meet the girls, 
but a gay voice called out, — 

u Why, Laura ! How in the world did you come here ?” 
and, looking up, she recognized Ned Simmons’s face, somewhat 
disguised under a heavy beard, and yet having the same 
characteristics which had made it a very disagreeable face to 
her in earlier years. 

She returned his friendly shake of the hand, however, and, 
after greeting the Castine gentleman and being introduced to 
the other officer, the party proceeded up the lane, Laura and 
Ned walking a little behind and interchanging a summary of 
news concerning their mutual friends and acquaintances. 

“ I am engaged to dine with this friend,” said he, as he 
left her at the door of the hotel, “ but I will come in some 
time this afternoon to see your mother.” 


A MAN-OF-WAR. 


269 


“ You ought to have come with us, Laura,” said Lilian, as 
they seated themselves at the dinner-table. “ We saw the 
whole performance. There were some splendid-looking fel- 
lows among the officers.” 

“ Perhaps you will think you would have done better to 
stay with me, when I tell you that I had one of the officers 
for a beau home, and another to walk in front of me in all 
the glory of his best uniform.” 

“ You don’t say so ! Pray, how did you manage it ?” 

“ Just as I always do, — by sitting still and letting the men 
come to me, instead of running after them. — It was Ned 
Simmons, mother. He was invited to Mr. Pingree’s to 
dinner, and their way led past where I was sitting. He is 
coming here this afternoon to see you.” 

This last bit of information restored Lilian’s equanimity. 
“ And you know to-night is the Orthodox Fair !” she ex- 
claimed. “ Don’t you suppose they will all stay and go to 
it ?” 

“ I don’t know, I am sure,” replied Laura. “ I hope so, 
for they must have plenty of money, and sailors are pro- 
verbially generous. And the ladies have been working them- 
selves half to death all summer, getting ready for the fair. 
I wondered all along where the purchasers were coming from. 
I suppose they thought the town would be full of strangers 
this year.” 

Lilian took care to be in her aunt’s room as soon as the 
afternoon nap was over, rejoicing inwardly that Mrs. Preble 
did not feel well enough to receive her guest in the parlor, 
and that Miss Hartwell was not sufficiently intimate with 
Laura to propose joining the party up-stairs. 

In due time the young lieutenant was announced, and he 
soon made himself as completely at home in Mrs. Preble’s 
chamber as he had been accustomed to do at her house in 
Boston during his boyish intimacy with her son. 

“ You haven’t forgotten your old tricks,” she said, smil- 
ingly, as his fingers wandered idly among the spools in her 
work-basket, while he answered her many inquiries about 
family affairs. 

He laughed, and proceeded to examine more carefully the 
contents of the basket. 

“ What have you done with the great big smooth nut you 

23 * 


270 


LA UR A, AN AMERICAN GIRL. 


used to keep in your work-table drawer ?” he asked. “ It 
had a hole in the shell, and we could see the brown meat 
inside. I know now where it came from. I saw bushels of 
them in Calcutta, and it made me homesick to look at them !” 

“ It is still in its old place,” she replied. “ I am glad you 
remember it. I will give it to you the next time you come tc 
see .us. You can carry it about with you to remind you of 
home and your childhood while you are wandering about in 
this wicked world.” 

Lilian took little part in the conversation, which was mostly 
about persons unknown to her. She was content to sit there, 
apparently busied with her embroidery, knowing herself the 
while the object of the young officer’s admiring regard, 
which she took care to stimulate occasionally by a long, soft 
glance from her dark eyes. 

Laura was friendly, but there was evidently no sympathy 
between the two, and it tended to raise the stranger in Lilian’s 
estimation that, with all possible opportunities of knowing 
Laura, he had escaped falling in love with her, and was in- 
different to her charms, if he did not positively dislike her. 

Before he took his departure it was ascertained that he 
already knew about the fair, and that the “ Agamenticus” 
would be well represented on the occasion ; indeed, the 
officers had promised to bring with them the amateur band of 
their ship to add to the entertainment. 

“ Pingree said the folks wouldn’t want to dance, but they 
could promenade,” remarked the young man, with a sly 
laugh. 

“ Mercy, no ! Don’t think of dancing !” cried Mrs. Preble. 
“ They would never forgive you, especially as this is a 
church fair.” 

“ Do any of you want to go on board this afternoon ?” he 
asked, as he rose to go away. 

No, none of them wanted to go out. They had all seen 
a monitor, from engine-house to turret, and they preferred to 
keep quiet until evening. 

“ Then, if you will allow me, I will come up and escort 
you to the fair,” he said to Mrs. Preble, after declining her 
invitation to stay to tea. 

“ Certainly, with pleasure,” was the reply. u We shall be 
ready by eight.” 


THE ORTHODOX FAIR. 


271 


“ We shall have to pull caps for our one beau,” said 
Lilian, when Laura came into her room to see what she was 
going to wear. “ Miss Hartwell expects to go with us. Her 
mother can’t leave the baby.” 

“ You are welcome to my share of him,” replied Laura. 
“ But I warn you both against him. He is not only a great 
flirt, but he is not a good young man. I could tell you a great 
many bad things about him ; but there isn’t time now. I 
don’t think he* has any real respect for women, he has 
associated so long with a low set. He was very wild formerly, 
and, judging from his looks, I should say that he has not 
yet experienced a change of heart.” 

“ Oh, well, mercy on us ! if you are going to turn your 
back upon all the wild young men, you may as well give up 
society altogether. It doesn’t concern us, just for one even- 
ing, what his life has been, and I must confess that, as casual 
acquaintances, I find young men who know the world much 
more agreeable than your sheepish fellows who are so very 
modest they don’t dare look a girl in the eye !” 

“ My taste is very different from yours,” said Laura. “ I 
think that men can learn to be agreeable without sacrificing 
their innocence. Nothing makes me so angry as to see young 
gentlemen trying to win the admiration of respectable girls 
by practising the airs and graces which they have learned 
through their intimacy with the worst of our sex.” 


CHAPTER XXXII. 

THE ORTHODOX FAIR. 

“ What are you going to wear to-night?” asked Lilian, 
abruptly, as Laura paused. 

“ My black grenadine, of course. I found two lovely half- 
open rose-buds this morning. Would you like one ?” 

“ No, thank you. I’m going to wear my cream-colored 
crepe, and tney wouldn’t match. I have a bouquet of arti- 
ficial roses which you couldn’t tell from real ones, to go with 


272 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL . 


my dress. And I shall w-ear my Spanish mantilla. There is 
always a draught in such places, and I have had enough of 
taking cold in Castine. I wonder what Miss Hartwell will 
come out in ?” 

“ Something stunning, we may be sure. She dresses too 
much for her style, and yet she does it well.” 

44 Blue and silver !” exclaimed Laura, as Miss Hartwell 
made her appearance in the parlor, where the party had 
agreed to assemble, in readiness for their escort. 44 I wish the 
King of Bavaria could see you !” 

44 I know it is too much dress for a pokey Presbyterian 
fair,” said Miss Hartwell, frankly ; “but it isn’t everyday 
that a ship-load of officers comes along, and at this rate I 
shan’t have a chance to wear my new dresses the whole 
summer ! 

44 How nice you look ! Black grenadine is so graceful, and 
that rose-bud makes it lively. I say, Lil, it’s a pity we can’t 
be photographed, now we’re dressed up. This is the first 
time I ever was in a town without a photographer.” 

“ It does seem strange,” said Laura. u But I believe a car 
comes along once in a while. And they are beginning to take 
pictures of the scenery.” 

“ Well, I should think it was high time !” exclaimed the 
Western belle. “These people ought to go to Chicago and 
get shaken up a little ! It’s great fun being photographed ! 
I often go with the other girls, and the photographer always 
fixes me up in some queer style. Sometimes I am 4 Poverty/ 
and sometimes 4 Resignation,’ and 4 Faith,’ and 4 Hope,’ and 
1 Charity,’ and all the rest. You ought to see me as a beggar- 
girl ! It is enough to wring money out of a stone ! And 
sometimes I am a nun, or a Sister of Charity.” 

44 Have you ever acted in tableaux ?” 

44 Tableaux ? Don’t ask me ! I am sick of the very word ! 
There was one pretty scene, though, last winter. It was from 
a French picture. I was a young nun in a convent garden, 
giving a rose-bud to my former lover through the bars of the 
high iron gate. We had to repeat it over and over. They 
said my face was perfectly haunting ! And well it might be ; 
for there was some truth in it. I thought I really liked 
the fellow who acted the lover, and father had forbidden my 
having anything to do with him. So I imagined myself 


THE ORTHODOX FAIR. 


273 


taking leave of him, and threw all the agony into my face. 
It just finished him! He has been frantic about me ever 
since ! But I got tired of him after a while, and shipped 
him. Father was quite right. He is so moonstruck and 
sentimental that he will always be as poor as a rat.” 

“ Who knows ?” said Laura. “ Perhaps he will be a great 
poet some day, and be famous and rich, both. You never 
can tell. But maybe your father had other reasons. At any 
rate, you are too young to know what you want ; only I can’t 
bear to hear a woman give a man’s poverty as a reason for 
dismissing him, in this country especially, where if a man 
have energy he is sure to be able to make a living.” 

Lilian rejoiced that Miss Hartwell was enveloped in her 
cloak before the young lieutenant entered the room, and she 
mentally resolved to keep him out of the way of the fairy in 
blue and .silver, whose beauty was too remarkable to be ig- 
nored by so experienced a critic of woman’s looks. 

Fortunately for Lilian’s plans, the stranger fell to her lot as 
especial companion during the progress of the party down the 
street, and by the time they reached the public hall where 
the fair was to be held she had succeeded in interesting him 
sufficiently to render him for the moment oblivious to the 
many faces and forms which flitted past the quiet corner in 
which the pair made haste to install themselves. 

The rest of the party found amusement in wandering from 
one table to another, examining the numerous specimens of 
handiwork offered for sale, and Laura was everywhere wel- 
comed as an acquaintance, her kindness in consenting to assist 
at the approaching concert being known to the whole com- 
munity. Besides, several of her musical associates had tables 
at the fair and she enjoyed many a lively scrap of conversation 
between buyers and sellers while busied in making her own 
selections for purchase. 

Before long the glittering epaulettes of the officers were 
visible in the crowd, and Ned, after introducing one of his 
friends to Lilian, set off to hunt up the others and present 
them to Mrs. Preble and Laura. While engaged in this 
duty he was himself introduced to Miss Hartwell, and the first 
glance interchanged between the couple set them at once upon 
the footing of intimacy. 

“ ‘ Er sagt Schonste, Sie sagt Liebster,’ ” said Laura to 


274 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL . 


herself, as she watched the little beauty float away, clinging 
to the young scamp’s arm, while he, already in possession of 
her fan, was waving soft airs to her enchanting face, and 
looking tenderly into her eyes, as he listened and replied to 
her merry chatter. 

“ Oh, I hope nothing will come of it,” murmured Laura, 
with a sigh, as she forced herself to pay attention to the civil 
remarks of the officer who had fallen to her share. 

By the time the room had become uncomfortably full and 
insupportably hot, the welcome tones of the band gave signal 
to the company that the upper hall was ready for the longed- 
for promenade. 

Laura declined the invitation of her companion to join the 
long procession of ladies and gentlemen who were pouring out 
of the hall and clattering up the stairs, eager to enjoy that 
innocent compromise between the prosaic walk and the 
wicked dance, but she introduced him to a young lady of 
more willing, mind, and, after seeing them depart, turned 
again to the tables, glad of a chance to inspect and buy 
while comparatively few persons were engaged in the same 
pursuit. She soon found her mother, and they proceeded 
to discuss various pieces of useful and ornamental handiwork 
which would be just the thing for Sarah’s prospective house- 
keeping. 

That young lady and her lover had been among the first 
to accept the invitation to the promenade, and were now 
marching up and down the long hall, exchanging confidences 
with greater freedom than when they were alone, the music 
and the lights stirring Sarah’s long-repressed nature to un- 
wonted fluency of expression, while the talk and laughter around 
them gave assurance that nobody could distinguish their con- 
tribution to the general effect. 

“ Lilian need never say again that Castine is behind the 
times,” exclaimed Mrs. Preble. l ' If you will believe it, there 
is a whole toilet-set, bureau-cover and all, embroidered in 
old German style, and a table-cover and napkins to match. 
They only want an initial to make them perfect, and the 
lady says the initial will be added to suit the purchaser.” 

“ Oh, then, let us take them !” cried Laura. “ There is 
nothing so pretty ; and they will wear forever, too. They 
won’t cost much more than they would in Boston, and I do 


THE ORTHODOX FAIR. 


275 


want to help these people. It is dreadful to take so much 
pains and then sell so little ! And, of course, what the mem- 
bers of their own congregation buy is no gain. They might as 
well have given the money outright and saved themselves the 
trouble.” 

“ The officers have done bravely,” whispered Mrs. Preble, — 
“ cigar-cases, and pincushions, and sponge-bags, and brush- 
holders, and soap-boxes, and dear knows what all ! And Mr. 
Peering bought that lovely work-basket for Sarah.” 

“ Oh, I am so glad !” said Laura. “ That is his first pres- 
ent, excepting the engagement-ring. And she will like it all 
the better because it was bought here. Just think how per- 
fect, to find a lover in Castine, — to have all one’s romantic 
feelings associated with such scenery as we have here !” 

She spoke with fervor, and Mrs. Preble, glancing inquir- 
ingly at her, saw that her eyes were full of tears. But there 
was apparently no thought of self in her emotion, no thought 
of Mr. Cleaveland in her mention of Sarah’s lover, and the 
mother’s anxiety was dispelled. 

“ I see Mrs. Turner over there in the corner,” said Mrs. 
Preble. “ I think I will join her and sit down awhile. You’d 
better go up-stairs and see how the promenading goes on.” 

“ Yes, I will. But first I want to buy that big doll for 
Minnie, before anybody else gets it. It is very nicely dressed, 
and the clothes are made to take off.” 

On reaching the door of the upper hall, Laura found the 
room so full that she did not attempt to enter. Feeling tired 
with long standing, she leaned against the door-post, with her 
hands lightly clasped behind her, a favorite attitude which had 
clung to her from childhood, in spite of home and school lec- 
tures on deportment. In her fingers she twirled absently 
one of her rose-buds as she watched over the heads of shorter 
people the passing and repassing of the cheerful company. 
Suddenly she felt the rose-bud carefully drawn away from her 
fingers, and, turning quickly to see who had ventured to take 
such a liberty, she met the laughing gaze of Mr. Cleave- 
land, who touched the flower to his lips and then hid it in 
his vest-pocket before any by-stander had a chance to observe 
the little pantomime. 

She held out her hand with a smile, and a deeper color 
tinged her cheek, as she exclaimed, — 


276 LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL. 

“ Welcome home, Mr. Cleaveland! We did not expect you 
so soon.” 

“ Welcome home?” he repeated, as he took her hand for a 
moment in his warm, firm grasp. “ That sounds very pleas- 
ant ! How do you know but it was homesickness that drove 
me back so soon ? However, there was a more prosaic rea- 
son for my return. I hurt my foot in the woods at Katah- 
din, and, as I could not walk much after that, there was 
no use in my staying. Fortunately, two other young men 
had joined our party, so I was not obliged to leave Mr. 
Witherle alone. I was sorry to lose the rest of the tramp, 
though. It was glorious ! I do believe the fresh smell of 
the pine woods will stay by me all winter in the city ! But 
how are you all ? How is your mother ?” 

“ She is growing stronger all the time, thank you. She is 
here to-night, down-stairs. The others are in this room. We 
will try to make our way in and find them.” 

Just then there was a pause in the music. The prome- 
naders broke ranks and retreated to the sides of the room, 
leaving the middle space empty. The band struck up a 
waltz, and a moment afterwards Lilian and Ned came whirl- 
ing, floating down the hall, the voluminous folds of her soft 
crape dress almost enveloping his nimble legs, the blaze of 
his uniform subdued by the black drapery of her Spanish 
mantilla, her dark braids relieved against his blond hair and 
beard, his strong arm pressing her slender waist more firmly 
as the passionate wailing, the bewildering movement, tlv 
close contact, aroused in them both a dreamy longing, which 
only the exigencies of the dance prevented from developing 
into conscious desire. 

“ Oh,” thought Lilian, “ to go on so forever, gently carried, 
tenderly caressed, — no matter by whom !” 

At that moment her eyes rested upon a familiar face ; the 
illusion vanished, and bitter regret succeeded to the fleeting 
ecstasy. She stopped abruptly. Her companion looked at 
her in surprise ; but her sudden paleness was a sufficient 
excuse for the interruption, and he led her to a seat and 
hurried away after a glass of water. 

Laura went to her at once, followed by Mr. Cleaveland. 
“ Are you faint ? Bo you want to go home ?” asked Laura, 
anxiously. 


THE ORTHODOX FAIR . 


277 


“ Oh, no. I shall feel better presently. How do you do, 
Mr. Cleaveland ?” she said, as he came up to speak to her. 

Her eager eyes could not perceive any difference in his 
manner. She almost wished he could appear offended and 
jealous. 

“ I shall have to read you another lecture upon over- 
exertion, ’’ he said, playfully. “ This crowded hall is worse 
than the light-house woods !” 

u I know it was foolish,” she murmured, apologetically. 
“ But the music was a temptation, and it was so long since I 
had danced.” 

As she spoke, she saw Lieutenant Simmons making his 
way slowly through the crowd, holding, for greater security, 
the glass of water high above the mass of heads. How she 
hated him ! How angry she was with herself for her tem- 
porary infatuation ! And the worst of it was, she knew the 
fault to be chiefly hers. She had proposed waltzing, as a 
means of detaining him from Miss Hartwell, to whom he had 
devoted himself from the moment of their introduction, and, 
as he was by far the most attractive of the officers, Lilian 
could not bear to see herself robbed of the best cavalier. 

Now she was glad enough when, after being introduced 
by Laura to Mr. Cleaveland, he found his way back to his 
former divinity ; and her satisfaction was increased on per- 
ceiving by the changes in the music that the two were about 
to transgress still more boldly than she had done the social 
code of Castine, and perhaps Mr. Cleaveland’s sense of pro- 
priety, by undertaking the maddest and wildest of galops. 

Nobody could deny that the dancing was perfect of its 
kind. The astonished natives had no time for disapproval of 
the rapid evolutions of the figure, and even the more practised 
eyes of the city visitors were dazzled by the promiscuous 
flashing of pale blue and silver and the dark blue and gold 
in the dizzy whirl which now and then varied the astounding 
individual feats of Terpsichorean skill. 

“ I think that must be 1 the Highland Fling/ ” said Mr. 
Deering to Sarah, while Mr. Cleaveland murmured to himself, 
with a mischievous smile, “ The 1 Can-can ’ in Castine !” 

Fortunately, the dance did not last long enough for the 
deacons down-stairs to decide as to the feasibility of going up 
to put an end to the unseemly amusement. The lieutenant 

24 


278 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL. 


and Miss Hartwell retired to an open window, to risk their 
lives in cooling off from the fierce exertion of their galop ; 
the band struck up a march, and the company soon forgot, in 
the gentle rhythm of the accustomed promenade, the bewilder- 
ing glimpse of the pleasures of the gay world to which the 
strangers had treated them. 

It was after eleven o’clock when our party left the fair. 
Sarah carried her precious basket, though Mr. Peering gal- 
lantly relieved her of the burden as soon as they were in the 
street, and Laura took the doll, so as to give little Minnie an 
early surprise. The other purchases were laid together to be 
sent to the hotel the next day. 

Lieutenant Simmons and Miss Hartwell lingered behind 
the others on the way, and thus secured a parting undisturbed 
by witnesses. Lilian was glad to have it so, as Mr. Cleave- 
land would thereby be convinced of her own indifference to 
the gay young officer, and, as she heard again the welcome 
sounds of habitation in her neighbor’s room, she imagined a 
long series of favorable opportunities for undoiug the possible 
harm caused by her recent performance and for setting her- 
self right in his good opinion. 

The Hartwells were to go by the next day’s boat : that 
was one comfort. And the few hours left of their stay would 
be too short a time for Miss Hartwell’s beauty to make much 
impression upon Mr. Cleaveland, especially as he must be 
prejudiced against her on account of her conduct at the fair. 


CHAPTER XXXIII. 

IN THE GARDEN. 

The next forenoon all went well for Lilian’s plans. Miss 
Hartwell had a headache, and remained invisible the whole 
morning. But on the way down to dinner Lilian met her 
attired in an elaborate wrapper, instead of the elegant travel- 
ling-costume which would have ’been the sign and seal of 
speedy departure. 

“ I’m not going !” she cried, skipping down the hall, and 


IN THE GARDEN. 


279 


putting her arm around Lilian’s waist. “ I’ve no notion of 
wandering all over the country hunting up doctors for that 
sick baby, and so I just set my foot down that I wouldn’t go, 
and Madame Hartwell at last gave in, if I would keep Minnie 
with me. She’s a nuisance, of course ; but I shan’t let her 
bother me much.” 

Lilian groaned in spirit, but kept outwardly calm as she 
answered, — 

“ I should think you would rather go with your party. 
Aren’t you afraid to take the responsibility of keeping Min- 
nie here alone ? Suppose she should be taken very ill ? 
Children are always having something the matter with them.” 

“ Oh, I’m not a bit afraid ! She’s as tough as a knot. 
Besides, the doctor said yesterday that this air is just the 
thing for her, because she had the ague in the spring.” 

During dinner Lilian could scarcely command herself suffi- 
ciently to take her part in the general conversation, and a new 
dread came into her mind as they all rose from the table. 
Where would Miss Hartwell’s seat be, after her mother’s de- 
parture ? Mrs. Hartwell had occupied Mr. Cleaveland’s chair 
during his absence, her step-daughter came next, and then 
Minnie. To-day they had all moved down one seat, so that 
Miss Hartwell was at the foot of the table. But she certainly 
wouldn’t stay there, with the light from two windows full in 
her face ; and what was more likely than that at tea-time she 
should slip into her mother’s vacant chair, next to Mr. Cleave- 
land ? 

Such a design must be circumvented without delay, and so 
Lilian stayed behind the others, and said to Mrs. Turner, — 

“ If it is the same to you, may Miss Hartwell sit next me 
after this? We are very good friends, and it isn’t so easy to 
talk across the table. And that will leave an empty space to 
set the dishes on as they come from the kitchen.” 

“ As you please,” said Mrs. Turner, who had never wasted 
many words upon her Ritualistic boarder since Irish Mary’s 
disappearance ; and Lilian took care to be first in the dining- 
room at supper-time, to make sure that the chairs were prop- 
erly arranged, and to direct Miss Hartwell to the right place. 

“ We are going to have some fun, if I am not mistaken,” 
said Laura to her mother and Sarah, as she looked out of the 
chamber window after tea and saw Mr. Cleaveland and the 


280 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL . 


two girls going down the garden path. “ It is ‘ York and 
Lancaster’ over again. I’m sorry I have to go to the re- 
hearsal to-night. I should like to look on. You must report, 
mother.” 

“ Not I. They can fight it out between themselves, for all 
of me. But I should hope that Mr. Cleaveland had too much 
good sense to be captivated by either of them.” 

“ A man’s good sense doesn’t generally count for much 
under such circumstances, according to my observation. And 
each of them is very beautiful in her way.” 

“ Beautiful ? Yes. But each of them acts like a fool in 
her way.” 

“ The little Hartwell is frank and honest, though,” pleaded 
Laura. “ She is uncultivated and selfish, but she isn’t de- 
ceitfuh” 

“ Well, my opinion is that neither of them will get him,” 
said Mrs. Preble. 


CHAPTER XXXIY. 

AN OFFER. 

“ I walked down to the wharf last evening,” said Mr. 
Cleaveland at breakfast, a few days later, “ and my foot didn’t 
hurt me at all. To-day I am going to venture a little farther. 
There is a point just at the end of the village which offers 
good material for a picture. Don’t you all want to spend the 
forenoon in that region ? I know a charming place where 
you can sit behind a boat-house in the shade.” 

“ Will you go, mother?” asked Laura. 

“ It would be very pleasant, but Mr. Deering has invited 
Sarah and me to drive around the ten-mile square. You’d 
better take shawls, if you are going to sit near the water.” 

“ Wait a minute, Laura,” cried Lilian, as she ran down- 
stairs to join the party in the street. “ Miss Hartwell and I 
must have something to do, down there. You have your draw- 
ing, and Mr. Cleaveland his painting, but we are tired of our 
fancy-work. Mr. Cleaveland, I am sure you have a lot of 


AN OFFER. 


281 


gloves that want mending. And Miss Hartwell and I are ready 
for the job. See, I have brought my bag of colored silks, all 
ready to go to work.” 

“ I understand you,” replied Mr. Cleaveland, looking around 
with a mischievous glance. “ You are reproaching me for let- 
ting my hands get so brown. But I hate gloves, and never 
wear them if I can help it.” 

“ No, I did not mean any such thing ! How you always 
misunderstand me !” exclaimed Lilian, with flushed and seri- 
ous face. “ But I know that gentlemen’s gloves are always 
ripping, and they don’t know how to mend them.” 

“ Yes, indeed,” chimed in Miss Hartwell. “ Whenever I 
get well acquainted with a young gentleman in Chicago, the 
first thing I do is to make him hand over his gloves 'to be 
mended. All the girls do so.” 

“ I really could not think of giving you the trouble,” said 
Mr. Cleaveland. “ I have one or two new pairs ready for 
emergencies, and the old ones are rolled up somewhere in my 
trunk, or squeezed into the corners of my coat-pockets : they 
are not in a condition for your fair hands.” 

“ Oh, please go and get them,” cried Lilian, and Miss Hart- 
well added, saucily, — 

“ If you don’t, we shall hunt them up ourselves, some time 
when you are out of your room !” 

Both girls seemed so determined in their desire to improve 
his hand-gear that Mr. Cleaveland resigned himself to their 
demand and went back to the house for his gloves. He soon 
returned, bringing several pairs, rolled up and squeezed up as 
he had foretold, but not the less welcome to the amateur seam- 
stresses, who, as soon as the walk was accomplished and they 
were seated behind the boat-house, busied themselves in smooth- 
ing out creases and organizing thorough repairs. Miss Hart- 
well’s occupation reminded her of many a by-gone flirtation 
in far-away Chicago, and Lilian revelled in this contact by 
proxy with the man she was allowing herself to adore. His 
hands had been in the gloves, would be there again ; hers 
were now making the leather warm : oh, if she might only be 
able to leave with the stitches a magnetic tie between his heart 
and her own ! 

“ Yonder is the site of the Baron de St. Castine’s fort,” said 
Laura. u There is nothing left of it but that little ridge of 
24 * 


282 


LAVRA , AN AMERICAN GIRL. 


earth, and a depression on the other side, as though the cellar 
had been there.” 

“ I wonder the people don’t dig about the place,” said Mr. 
Cleaveland. 44 They might find many interesting relics.” 

44 Mercy ! don’t put such an idea into their beads,” cried 
Laura. 44 They have already destroyed the old 4 Half-Moon 
Fort,’ in building the new battery. Do let us keep that little 
outline of the foundations intact. Very few old towns in 
America have so romantic a history to begin with.” 

The gloves were finished at last, and the two girls sat nestled 
against each other, watching the workers and occasionally ex- 
changing a whispered sentence. 

44 Lilian, we ought to have brought a book, so that you 
might read aloud to us,” said Laura. 44 Mr. Cleaveland has 
never heard you read. — She is au admirable reader and de- 
claimer, Mr. Cleaveland ; and you ought to seeTier act in pri- 
vate theatricals.” 

44 Indeed !” exclaimed Mr. Cleaveland, giving Lilian a glance 
of greater interest than he had ever before bestowed upon her. 
44 Shall you continue your studies this winter, after you go 
home ?” 

44 Oh, no ; I have never taken lessons since I left school. 
I only read once in a while, to amuse my friends.” 

44 But why shouldn’t you go on and develop your talent ?” 

44 What is the use ? I don’t need to give readings for money, 
and of course I should never think of acting in earnest.” 

44 But there would be the pleasure and benefit to yourself. 
And who knows what a help such a possession might be to 
you some day ? And, even though you should always be rich, 
you might use your gift in many benevolent schemes for the 
good of others.” 

44 1 think a woman’s true sphere is home,” said Lilian, in 
a tone which showed plainly, to one who knew her as well as 
Laura did, that she felt certain this argument would accord 
entirely with the views of the man she was trying to capti- 
vate. 

He glanced at her and smiled. 

44 Are you sure you think so ?” he asked. 44 The home of 
a wealthy family in New York is not apt to be a very secluded 
place, and a daughter in such a house, with servants at her 
command and a continual round of gayeties to enjoy, cannot 


AN OFFER. 283 

know much of what is meant by 1 the sphere of home,’ it 
seems to me.” 

“ Well, at any rate, I have no desire to display myself in 
public,” she answered. 

He looked, at her again with the same smile. 

“ Don’t you do that already ? Could there be a more public 
place than a fashionable drawing-room, or a fashionable church? 
Don’t you dress, and dance, and drive in the Park on purpose 
to be admired? Would you be any more exposed to cont*v> 
ination from the public in reading from the platform of a hall 
than you are in waltzing upon the floor of that same hall ? — 
By the way,” he added, in a lighter tone, turning to Laura, 
“ I didn’t see you dancing the other night.” 

“ No : I never dance round dances,” said Laura, simply. 

“ Indeed ! How is that?” 

“ Mother did not allow it when I first began to go into 
society, and now I do not like them myself.” 

“ Misery loves company,” he said, with evident satisfaction. 
“ I am worse off than you : I can’t dance at all ! So the next 
time we go to a fair in Castine I shall be sure of somebody 
to talk to while these young ladies are engaged. 

“ But you spoke of reading aloud. I hope Miss Thorne will 
favor us soon.” 

“ But you’ll read a novel, — won’t you ? — and not any of 
that horrid poetry !” exclaimed Miss Hartwell, looking up 
pathetically into Lilian’s eyes from her resting-place on Lilian’s 
shoulder. 

“ You must apply to Laura if you want novels,” replied 
Lilian. “ I don’t care much for that kind of literature.” 

“Indeed!” said Mr. Cleaveland. “What kind of reading 
do you prefer, if I may ask ?” 

“ Philosophy,” was the modest answer. 

“ Philosophy !” he repeated, looking at her in surprise. 

“ Yes. I mean especially German philosophy, — Hegel and 
Kant, for instance.” 

Lilian had, in truth, waded through a good many profound 
works of speculation, her incentive to the task having been a 
short-lived fancy for a long-haired spectacled German student 
at Bonn, who was even then a man of so much promise that 
the conquest of his heart was well worth the trouble she had 
taken to secure it. The flirtation lasted only a few months, 


284 


LAVRA , AN AMERICAN GIRL. 


but the fruits of her labors remained to her in the shape of a 
superficial knowledge of her victim’s favorite studies, and she 
was never long in informing her scholarly admirers that she 
had read Kant and Hegel. 

“ For instance!” repeated Mr. Cleaveland, lost in astonish- 
ment. He wanted to ask her how such reading harmonized 
with her religious faith, but feared she might recognize his 
scepticism as to her capacity for comprehending metaphysical 
-rmbHlties, and so contented himself with the exclamation. 

“ And so you read a great many novels ?” he said to Laura. 

“ Yes, I read a good many. People are always saying that 
a woman’s world lies in her affections ; and, as novels treat of 
that world, I make a study of them.” 

“ And do you find that novels depict life as it really is?” 

“ Very few of them. Most of them are mere stuff and 
rubbish. I can tell after a few pages whether a story is worth 
anything from my point of view, and if it isn’t I throw it 
aside. Indeed, biography is my favorite reading, because 
there is some truth in it, — more than there is in history. 
There are only a few novels which I really care for, and those 
I read over and over, and never tire of them. Jane Austen’s, 
Baroness Tautphoeus’s, Auerbach’s 1 Dorfgeschichten,’ Haw- 
thorne’s ‘ Scarlet Letter,’ Mrs. Stowe’s c Pearl of Orr’s Is- 
land,’ Mrs. Gaskell’s 1 Cranford,’ Walford’s ‘ Mr. Smith,’ 
James’s ‘ Daisy Miller,’ and Miss Jewett’s ‘ Lost Lover.’ 
That is going to be my library when I am cast on a desert 
island.” 

“ I should want more than that to be shut up in Castine, 
which is my idea of a desert island,” said Lilian. 

“ Oh, Lilian, what could be more beautiful than this 
scenery ?” exclaimed Laura, reproachfully. 

“ And just so it must have looked to the Baron de Castine 
and his Indian wife,” she added, as she held her idle pencil 
in her folded hands and gazed dreamily out to sea. “ I pre- 
sume they often rambled along the shore and stopped to enjoy 
the view at this very point. There is a tradition that she 
used to wear a blue silk dress. I suppose he sent to France 
for it.” 

“ It couldn’t have been very becoming to her,” said Miss 
Hartwell. 

“ That depends upon the shade,” remarked Lilian. “ And 


AN OFFER. 


285 


you could trust a Frenchman to choose exactly the right 
color. The best thing I kuow about him is that he went 
back to France. How he stood it so long as he did is a 
mystery to me. It is very beautiful, and all that, but think 
of spending years in such a place, winter and summer ! De- 
liver me !” 

“ He stayed here as long as his wife lived,” said Laura. 
“ After she was dead I can well imagine that earlier associa- 
tions came back with such force as to induce him to return 
to his old home. The saddest part of the story is about the 
Indian girl who threw herself from the light-house rocks into 
the sea when the baron’s son sailed away to France without 
her.” 

“ Were they engaged?” asked Miss Hartwell, with interest. 

“ I don’t think they were,” replied Laura, with a smile. 
“ Perhaps he didn’t even know that she loved him.” 

“ Then she ought to have told him !” exclaimed Miss Hart- 
well, with decision. u I don’t believe in people making them- 
selves miserable for their whole lives just because they are 
afraid to tell how they feel ! Now, don’t you think, Mr. 
Cleaveland, that a woman has a right to offer herself, once in 
a while ?” 

“ Once in a while ?” he repeated, roguishly. “ I believe 
Leap-Year is the regular time, isn’t it?” 

“ Oh, come, now, be serious ! I don’t mean that. Do you 
think it is bold in a woman to tell a man that she loves him, 
when he can’t see it for himself? — I mean, if she is too rich, 
or too beautiful, or too grand in any way for him ?” 

“ Why, it seems to me that if he is too dull to perceive 
what she intends him to know, he is not worth having ; and 
as for the riches and so forth, I don’t think a sensible, earnest 
man would be scared away by any such advantages on her 
side.” 

“ Oh, there are such cases, I assure you. And sometimes 
the woman finds out before the man does that they are suited 
to each other. And if she shouldn’t say anything, he might 
go away, and there would be an end of it. I don’t see why 
women haven’t a right to speak out as well as men.” 

“ Then I presume you are willing to grant that a man should 
have the right to refuse ?” 

“ Certainly. But it would prevent a great many mistakes 


286 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL. 


if it was the fashion. And 1 popping the question’ wouldn’t 
be such hard work. People needn’t say, as they do in the 
novels, ‘ Wilt thou be mine?’ or make a great long speech. 
For instance, what if I should say, 6 Mr. Gleaveland , I like 
you very much ; would you like to marry me V ” 

Light-minded as she was, she blushed up to the roots of her 
hair as she uttered the last words, and he blushed also. Laura 
was evidently horrified beyond expression, and Lilian looked 
angrily at the little beauty, fearing that so novel a mode of 
attack might, after all, have its charm for so self-possessed a 
man as Mr. Cleaveland. But he answered, without looking 
up from his painting, — 

“ In that case I should say, 4 No, thank you.’ ” 

She laughed in an embarrassed way, and Lilian proceeded 
to increase her punishment. 

“ Oh, you should say more than that,” she exclaimed. 
“ You should add, 1 I am very sorry if anything in my con- 
duct has led you to entertain false hopes. 1 meant nothing 
hut the merest friendliness in all that I have said and done' ” 
“ So that is the way you dispose of your victims, is it ?” 
replied Mr. Cleaveland, glancing at her mischievously. “ Well, 
1 forewarned, forearmed.’ ” 

Lilian colored violently, and a deep gloom settled upon her 
features. Laura knew well that she had taken the light re- 
mark in solemn earnest, and she hastened to divert her 
thoughts. 

“ I have often wondered,” she said, turning to Miss Hart- 
well, “ that I never heard your first name. Your mother and 
Minnie call you 4 sister,’ and we, of course, always say 4 Miss 
Hartwell.’ ” 

44 It’s because I’ve got such an ugly name,” she answered, 
readily. 44 They know what they’ll get if they dare to call me 
by it at home. It’s Jemima ! Think of that ! After some 
forty-’leventh cousin of father’s. An old maid. And she 
wasn’t rich, either : so he hadn’t even that excuse. She sent 
him to college, though, and out of gratitude he named me 
after her. Gratitude is all very well ; but I don’t see why I 
should be made to suffer for it. If she had only been alive 
to know it, I shouldn’t have minded it quite so much ; but 
she died ages before I was born : so I think it is a little too 
bad I Imagine a man saying, 4 Jemima , will you marry me ?' ” 


AN OFFER. 287 

“ But that mortification will be spared if you make the offer 
yourself, you know,” said Mr. Cleaveland. 

“ That is very true. I have a better excuse than most 
girls,” she answered, in the same tone. 

“ It is perfectly disgusting to hear her talk so freely about 
marrying and being married,” said Laura, after rehearsing the 
incidents of the morning to her mother. “ It is the begin- 
ning and the middle and the end of all her speeches. It is 
bad enough when we girls are by ourselves ; but it is ten 
times worse when Mr. Cleaveland and Mr. Deering are 
present.” 

“ Oh, well, she is such a little rattle-brained thing that no- 
body minds what she says,” replied her mother. 

Miss Hartwell’s daring suggestion convinced Lilian that she 
had a rival, and a very unscrupulous one, in the person of the 
Chicago beauty, and she made up her mind, as she laid her 
head on her pillow that night, to keep a strict watch over the 
goings-out and comings-in of that erratic little body, and to 
contrive to be always present at her meetings with Mr. Cleave- 
land. 

But, owing to Lilian’s habit of late rising, she missed the 
very first opportunity. As luck would have it, Miss Hart- 
well was in the dining-room a full quarter of an hour before 
breakfast, and Mr. Cleaveland, returning from an errand to the 
post-office, thought it not worth while to go back to his room 
to await the summons of the bell, and so they met. The 
kitchen door was shut and likely to remain so, as Lucinda was 
frying griddle-cakes : it was a grand chance. 

Miss Hartwell heard the welcome step approaching, and 
leaned out of the window as though something of great in- 
terest were to be observed upon the ground below. As she ex- 
pected, he came to see what was going on, and she laughed 
merrily over the deception as she drew in her head. 

They chatted a few moments about the weather, and then, 
taking advantage of the first pause, she looked up into his 
face with all the pathos which she well knew how to throw 
into her delicate features, and said, in a low voice, — 

“ What if I should ask the same question now in earnest 
that I asked yesterday in fun ? would your answer be the 
same?” 

“ Of course !” he answered, in a frolicsome tone ; but, per- 


288 LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL. 

ceiving that she was serious, he became so too, and con- 
tinued, — 

“ I know you would not ask such a question in earnest.” 

“ Yes, I would !” she exclaimed, with a gasp. She fancied 
she heard a door shut up-stairs. Somebody would be sure to 
come in and spoil it all. 

“ Take me /” she added, turning towards him and holding 
out her little hands. 

There was only a moment of silence between her appeal 
and his reply, and yet the thoughts of each flew over a wide 
range. She was saying to herself, “ Oh, if I can only carry 
back such a splendid fellow as this with me, won’t Fanny 
Mather be ready to die with envy ?” 

And he was saying to himself, “ See now the effect of edu- 
cation upon the race ! One of our wild ancestors would have 
considered it well worth a chase in the forest primeval to 
4;nock down this pretty creature with a club and carry her off 
for his pleasure, whilst I, who can have her even without 
asking, do not feel a single stir of my pulse at the thought of 
possessing her !” 

His answer to her was, — 

“ Child, you don’t know what you are saying ! If your 
mother were alive, she would teach you better than to talk in 
this way. Ten years hence, you will be ashamed to think 
that you ever made such a proposal !” 

She stepped back, her hands fell, and her violet eyes filled 
with tears. He was sorry that he had spoken so sharply, but 
she recovered herself in a moment, and, looking up coquet- 
tishly, resumed the attack. 

“ Why?” she asked. “Don’t you like me? Don’t you 
think me pretty enough ?” 

u You are beautiful,” he answered, gravely ; “ but a man 
cannot live on beauty alone.” 

“ But father is rich !” 

“ I didn’t mean that. I meant In short, we should 

not suit each other at all. Compared with you, I am old and 
settled down. You are very young and very gay : can’t you see 
that you wouldn’t be satisfied to lead my kind of life ? The 
first time I saw you, you were dancing a sort of modified 
1 can-can with a young officer you had never met before. Do 
you think I should permit such displays as that ?” 


AN OFFER. 


289 


“ I shouldn’t want to do so if I were married,” she pleaded. 
“ And your being so much older is nothing. Everybody says 
it is better to be an old man’s darling than a young man’s 
slave.” 

“ It is not quite so bad as that,” replied Mr. Cleaveland, 
biting his lips to keep from laughing outright. “ But do be 
sensible ! You don’t want to marry anybody yet awhile, and 
you certainly wouldn’t choose me if you knew me better.” 

He turned away from the window as he spoke, and picked 
up a newspaper from the table. She saw that the interview 
was at an end. 

“ I believe it is the way for a rejected person to leave town 
at once,” she said. 

He looked at her inquiringly, not knowing to what extent 
she might be capable of carrying her folly. 

“ There is no question of rejection,” he said, quietly. “ You 
have been talking a little nonsense, that is all. We will forget 
it, both of us. You will stay here till your mother comes or 
sends for you, and we will be merry all together, without 
thinking of marrying or giving in marriage.” 

“ And you won’t hate me for what I said ? You will be a 
good friend of mine always ?” she asked, excitedly, holding 
out her hand. 

He shook it cordially, and replied, u Of course we shall 
always be good friends !” 

“ And you won’t tell anybody about this?” 

“ I hope you do not think me capable of betraying your 
confidence,” he answered, proudly. 

“ Well, I don’t know. Girls tell, and I supposed men did 
too.” 

“ I shall not tell.” 

Steps were descending the stairs, and the two put their 
heads out of the window and leaned upon the sill, as though 
watching something in the flower-bed below. 

The family all came in together. Breakfast passed off 
gayly, and Miss Hartwell showed no trace of disappointment 
in either countenance or manner, as she joined in the discus- 
sion of plans for making good use of the beautiful weather 
with which they were at present favored. 

It had not escaped Lilian’s observation that Mr. Cleaveland 
and Miss Hartwell had literally been enjoying a tete-d-tete, 
n t 25 


290 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL. 


and as soon as she could get a chance she asked the latter 
what they had found so interesting out of the window. 

“ How much that man knows !” exclaimed Miss Hartwell, 
so naturally that she did not seem to he evading the truth. 
“ I knew he understood painting and was a doctor besides ; 
but where he found time to learn all about spiders I don’t see. 

“ What are you going to wear to the concert ?” she added, 
hastening to change the subject, lest Lilian should question 
her concerning the habits of spiders. 

She had taken the right tack to lead Lilian astray. 

“ It don’t much matter what we wear,” was the reply. 
“ We shall all keep our things on, and the pews will hide 
everything but our heads and shoulders.” 

“ Oh, but they are going to have seats on the platform. 
The pulpit is to be taken away and the whole floor filled with 
chairs. Mrs. Turner says if we go early we can find seats on 
the platform. We can see everybody there, and they can see 
us, too. Let’s you and I dress up and ‘ astonish the natives !’ ” 

“ Youd better,” said Lilian, who saw in this plan a pros- 
pect of getting her rival out of the way for the whole evening. 
She had been worrying a good deal as to the probable ar- 
rangement of the party in the pew. Her aunt would of course 
have the corner seat, where she could be most comfortable, 
and she greatly feared that she would be obliged to sit next 
her, as Sarah and Mr. Deering would want to be together, and 
he was too old-fashioned to allow a lady to sit below him. In 
that case Mr. Cleaveland would be entirely thrown away at 
the door of the pew : the only comfort was that Miss Hartwell 
would be forced to sit between her and Sarah, so that she could 
not get at him either. But it would be still better to have 
her on the platform. Her beauty would not be very conspic- 
uous in such a crowd, and it was possible that Mr. Deering 
would not be able to attend the concert at all. She had heard 
something about his going to Eastport just at that time. If 
he should happen to be absent she could easily manage to sit 
next Mr. Cleaveland. So she hastened to confirm Miss Hart- 
well in her desire to take a place upon the platform. 

“ I must stay in the pew with aunty,” she said. “ She 
might be faint, or something, and Sarah and Mr. Deering will 
be so much occupied with each other that they won’t have 
any eyes f<5r her. And Mr. Cleaveland will be away off at 


LAURA'S SERMON. 


291 


the other end of the pew, so he won’t know if she wants any- 
thing. You can keep watch of all that goes on in that part 
of the house, and we will have great fun talking it over after- 
wards. And I will notice just how you look, and tell you if 
I hear any compliments upon your face or your dress.” 

“ Oh, dear ! and it isn’t till to-morrow night !” cried Miss 
Hartwell. “It seems as if I couldn’t wait. What are you 
going to do this afternoon ?” 

“ I don’t know. Mr. Cleaveland is going up the river in 
a boat with some gentlemen. You and I might walk up to 
Hatch’s Point. It is shady there in the afternoon. Maybe 
we shall see them on their way back. Laura can’t go. They 
are to have their last rehearsal in the church this afternoon. 
That is the reason she is keeping quiet in her room this 
morning.” 

“ She must be shaking in her shoes by this time,” remarked 
Miss Hartwell. “ It is very nice to be able to stand up and 
sing before the whole world ; but it isn’t worth the work and 
the scare, after all.” 


CHAPTER XXXV. 
laura’s sermon. 

There was not a soul in the house when Laura returned 
from the church. The rehearsal was postponed until evening, 
on account of the necessary absence of the chief tenor, and, 
after chatting a few minutes with the singers present, she 
went home. The room up-stairs seemed lonesome: so she 
went down into the garden, and, leaning back at her ease in 
the shady arbor, gave herself up to the quiet enjoyment of the 
summer stillness resting upon land and sea. 

But her solitude was destined to be disturbed. She heard 
footsteps coming down the gravel-path, and, looking out be- 
tween the vine-leaves, she saw Mr. Cleaveland, reading a news- 
paper as he slowly advanced. He did not see her till he was 
fairly within the arbor ; then he threw the paper upon the 
table and cried, — 

“ You here ? I thought you were singing in the church !” 


292 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN OIRL. 


“ You here ?” she repeated, playfully. “ I thought you 
were rowing in a boat !” 

“ No. Mr. Harris couldn’t go.” 

“ And Mr. Sewall couldu’t come. So we are even.” 

“ I suppose the others are all gone out,” he suggested. 

“ Yes. The house seemed so empty, I couldn’t stay in it. 
So I came here. Even the servants are out. It doesn’t give 
one exactly the idea of a hotel, and yet it is pleasanter to have 
it so quiet.” 

“ What a beautiful world this is !” exclaimed Mr. Cleave- 
land, looking out from his leafy seclusion upon the blue sea 
and the green islands. “ It is hard to realize that it is a 
world of sin and sorrow.” 

“ There is sorrow enough, but there is no sin,” she an- 
swered, in a decided tone. 

He was sufficiently accustomed to her condensed statements, 
her daring assertions, to know that behind each of these was 
some idea full of truth, which, however old and generally ac- 
cepted it might be, she had yet thought out for herself in an 
independent fashion which gave piquancy to her manner of 
advancing an argument. Even if it had not been so, there was a 
charm in her conversation for him, because she talked so frankly 
and without any reference to her position as an unmarried lady 
and his as an eligible young man. Almost all the other girls 
with whom he had ever been on friendly terms had sooner or 
later betrayed a consciousness which demanded great watchful- 
ness in his conduct towards them, and thereby placed an uncom- 
fortable restraint upon the interchange of opinions and feelings. 
But with this girl he felt perfectly at ease. She might have 
been his sister, excepting for an occasional blush or a slight 
reserve of manner which proved that, notwithstanding her sim- 
plicity, she was intuitively mindful of the barrier of sex and 
was in no danger of allowing friendliness to degenerate into 
familiarity. He was glad to be alone with her now in the 
quiet garden ; but he felt no temptation to give the conversa- 
tion a personal turn, which with another sort of girl would 
lead to sentimental revelations characteristic of intentional 
flirtation. He was content to sit at a respectful distance from 
her and hear what she had to say upon a topic of interest to 
all mankind. ♦ 

“ No sin ! Pray how do you make that out?” 


LAURA'S SERMON. 


293 


“ Oh, you must never require accuracy of terms from me ! 
You know I am not a philosopher. And of course there is 
sin, in the strict sense of the word. There is transgression 
of natural law and transgression of civil law, — all that makes 
misery and brings punishment. What I mean is that sin as 
a continual, unavoidable heritage does not exist. The wrong 
we do is against ourselves and against our fellow-beings, and 
we can gradually cure ourselves as a race. And as indi- 
viduals it is wrong to waste our time and our strength and 
our opportunities in fruitless remorse on account of faults 
and mistakes for which we are in a great degree not respon- 
sible, and which can only be remedied by present and future 
endeavor.” 

“ But what have you to do with remorse ?” asked Mr. 
Cleaveland, in surprise. 

“ We all have to do with remorse,” she answered, gravely, 
“ if our standard be high and our conscience tender. And it 
is in calling myself so often to account that I have made the 
discovery which comforts me.” 

“ Do tell me what it is !” he exclaimed. 

“ Well, then — but I don’t know whether I can express it 
in words. I have never spoken of it to any one before. I 
mean this : I have done my share of wrong things in my life. 
If my mother were to die I should remember a great many 
hasty words and thoughtless acts which do not trouble me so 
much now. And lam often angry with people, so angry that 
for a moment I feel a pang as though a knife were in my 
heart ! Of course I have been taught to govern my temper, 
so that I seldom speak when I am in such a mood, and nobody 
knows how I feel. But I can well understand how a person 
of a fiercer disposition, who had never learned to control him- 
self, might commit murder under sudden provocation. In- 
deed, I often realize that there is no sin of which I have not 
the germ in my own nature ; at any rate, there is enough 
possibility of evil in me to make me charitable towards every- 
body less fortunate than myself as to parentage and education. 
And so, recognizing how highly favored I am in these respects, 
I am filled with shame and regret whenever I do anything 
wrong.” 

“ Yes ; but every one is liable to infirmities of temper and 
judgment. And, though these cause a conflict in your own 

25 * 


294 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL. 


mind, they are not expressed in outward acts, and so do not 
injure others. Consequently they do not call for remorse, it 
seems to me.” 

“ Oh, but I have often injured others by my conduct; at 
least I have hurt their feelings, and one cannot limit the in- 
fluence of an evil act, any more than of a good one. I am 
apt to worry over my mistakes, and perhaps in some moods to 
magnify them. Sometimes, when anything reminds me sud- 
denly of what I am sorry for, the emotion is so strong that it 
amounts to actual physical pain. You know the sensation, 
perhaps, — a flush, and then a chill, and then a deep heartache 
and a wild feeling that it must not, cannot be so, and then 
the bitter consciousness that it is so and never can be other- 
wise, and then a gradual struggling back to the present, with 
a renewed determination to make the future atone for the 
past. 

“ Well, now, after suffering that shock many, many times, 
I became conscious that I experienced exactly the same feel- 
ings in recalling matters of no real importance, but which had 
been a disappointment or a mortification to me when they 
occurred. Scarcely a day passes in which I do not say or do 
something to be sorry for when I come to think it over at 
night ; but there are certain mistakes and blunders of mine 
which I never can forget. 

“Once, in travelling — it was on Lake Starnberg — I was 
guilty of apparent rudeness towards a young officer who paid 
me polite attentions. I did not mean it in the least, but I had 
been speaking English, and somehow the right German words 
wouldn’t come, and I was so confused that I did not perceive 
that in refusing a footstool which he brought me, and which I 
didn’t need, I was placing him in an awkward position, besides 
showing my own want of tact. I can see it all now. His 
name was Count Nugent, and he never came near me again. 
Served me right ! 

11 Once, when I was a child, I had a pet chicken, a little 
half-fledged creature, hatched very early in the spring, which 
I tried to bring up by hand in the house. I did not know 
how to take care of it in the right way, and I neglected to 
give it sand, and I am afraid the meal got sour once in a 
while, and by and by the chicken died. It has haunted me 
ever since ! 


LAURA'S SERMON . 


295 


“ And a few years afterwards I had a cat, a beautiful blue- 
gray Maltese. I thought the world of it, and it loved me 
dearly. But we moved into another part of the town, and, as 
we were going to board for a time, mother thought we could 
not carry the cat with us, and the people who took our house 
wanted to keep it, and, as cats are particularly attached to 
places, I thought it would be happier there. I went some- 
times to visit it, and it was always so glad to see me ! Once 
it followed me down the street, and I was obliged to carry it 
back. And then winter came, and I was busy at school and 
taken up with many other things, and at last I heard from 
one of our old neighbors that the cat was shot, and, moreover, 
that the family had not treated it kindly. Oh, how I blamed 
myself, how I blame myself still, for my selfish carelessness 
towards my old pet ! 

" And so with regard to inanimate things. Once I spilt a 
bottle of varnish over a beautiful crayon drawing which a 
friend had given me. The picture was ruined, and it was 
impossible to get another like it. It makes me shudder every 
time I look at it ! 

“ And once I broke a dish, an old relic brought from Eng- 
land when our family came over, long before the Revolution, 
and kept with the greatest care from one generation to 
another. It was broken ‘ all to pieces,’ too, so that it could 
not be mended. I can’t bear the sight of the bit which re- 
mains : it brings back all the agony of that moment ! 

“ Now, nobody would call such faults and blunders sins , or 
think that I am likely to suffer eternally for having committed 
them ; and yet when they come suddenly to my remembrance 
I experience the same regret, the same remorse, even, which 
pains me when I recall my many shortcomings as daughter, 
sister, and friend. I feel a sharp thrill all over me, and I 
blush up to my hair even when I am alone and in the dark, 
and I wring my hands and cry out, ‘ Why did I act so ?' ‘7 

cannot have it so /’ And the whole world seems empty for 
the time, and life not worth the living. 

“ And so I have come to the conclusion that every infringe- 
ment of the laws of our higher nature, from a sin against 
good taste to a sin against honor and justice, punishes itself 
in the regret which follows, and is punished by the conse- 
quences it draws after it, and there is the end of the matter. 


296 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL. 


It is our business to turn the regret to good account and re- 
pair so far as is possible the wrong we do ; but that the evil 
reaches beyond our present existence in this world I do not 
believe. If we are to live again under other conditions, we 
shall not be haunted by the errors we have committed under 
our present condition. That would be unjust.”) 

“ I think you ought to do your best to conquer your re- 
grets of whatever kind,” said Mr. Cleaveland. “ The cause 
is partly physical. You say yourself that the unpleasant 
memories return only occasionally, when you are in certain 
moods, and no doubt the state of your nerves causes you to 
exaggerate their importance. We all have to learn through 
mistakes what we never could learn in any other way. I 
think it would be much better if, instead of considering our- 
selves as creatures fallen from original purity and excellence, 
we could recognize ourselves as beings developed from a very 
^ low beginning, each one of us born with more or less of a 
tendency to revert to the original type, each one of us capable 
of improving and elevating our individual qualities, and the 
whole race advancing slowly, but surely, towards a perfection 
of which as yet we can only dream.” 

They were both silent a few moments. Laura sat in an 
attitude of deep thought, her hands loosely clasped around 
her knee, her eyes fixed upon the ground. Mr. Cleaveland 
was watching her, admiring the pose of her bent head and 
the expression of pensive sweetness in her delicate face, yet 
ready to turn away his eyes so soon as she should come out 
of her revery sufficiently to become conscious of his observa- 
tion. 

Suddenly a light step was heard flying down the path, and 
Lilian appeared before them. An angry flash of her eyes at 
Laura, and a longer look of soft reproach bestowed upon Mr. 
Cleaveland, betrayed her disapproval of the tete-a-tete. 

“ How long have you been here, I wonder ?” she exclaimed, 
with seeming unconcern, while her heart died within her as 
she thought of her two hours’ absence and of all that might 
have happened during the interval. 

“ A good while,” said Laura, innocently. “ Our rehearsal 
didn’t come off, — I must go again this evening, — and Mr. 
Cleaveland’s friend couldn’t go boating : so we both found our 
way here.” 


LAURA'S SERMON. 


297 


“ Miss Preble has been preaching a very good sermon : ifc 
is a pity you were not here to listen to it,” said Mr. Cleave- 
land. 

“ Preaching, has she ?” answered Lilian, with a feeling of 
relief, knowing Laura’s fondness for objective discussion. 
“ I suppose she took the English for her text, as usual.” 

“ Oh, no ; she was not so limited in her subject, this time. 
She mustered up the whole human race.” 

“ Dear me ! Well, I hope she made over the universe to 
her own satisfaction — and yours,” she added, with a glance 
intended to convey sympathy with his supposed ridicule of 
her cousin’s remarks. 

But no answering glance rewarded her. He was looking 
out over the bay, and appeared not to hear what she said. 

“ We had a long, hot walk home,” she exclaimed, sitting 
down on Mr. Cleaveland’s side of the arbor and taking off her 
hat. “ Catch me going off to the woods early in the after- 
noon again 1” 

“ What have you done with your companion ?” asked 
Laura. 

“ Oh, she stayed behind to scold Minnie. The child has 
been sailing chips in a tub of water by the kitchen door, and 
has got her clothes soaking wet.” 

“ No wonder,” replied Laura. “ Miss Hartwell neglects 
that child shamefully. I don’t see why she didn’t take her 
to walk. If I had known she was at home I would have 
brought her down here with me.” 

“ Nothing very remarkable has taken place between them,” 
thought Lilian, “ or she wouldn’t say that. And she will be 
out of the way all the evening, so it will be hard if I cannot 
make him forget any impression she may have made upon 
him.” 

Laura was out of the way in the evening, it is true, but 
Lilian did not find the occasion so satisfactory as she had 
hoped. Miss Hartwell hung around as long as she could, 
and, when she was finally obliged to go up-stairs to put Minnie 
to bed, Sarah and Mrs. Preble came down, feeling lonely in 
their chamber now that Mr. Deering was away. Later, they 
all sauntered up the street to be ready to escort Laura home ; 
but there was quite a crowd in front of the church, so that, 
although Mrs. Preble and Sarah were not within hearing dis- 


298 


LAURA . AN AMERICAN GIRL. 


tance, there was no opportunity for saying anything especial, 
and Lilian was forced to content herself with being seen in 
Mr. Cleaveland’s company. 


CHAPTER XXXVI. 

THE CONCERT. 

It may safely be asserted that the concert was the theme 
of conversation and the subject of thought in every Castine 
home from the rising of the sun until the going down 
thereof upon the eventful day. 

The committee were busy collecting extra chairs and 
benches from the school-houses, borrowing lamps, and re- 
moving the pulpit and other furniture from the platform ; 
the performers were busy practising refractory notes and pre- 
paring toilets for public scrutiny ; the prospective audience 
were going through their daily avocations with a view to 
the early suspension of work and business in time for the 
evening’s enjoyment. 

The lower street was crowded with farmers’ wagons, their 
wives and daughters having postponed shopping for several 
weeks so as to make a day of it on this momentous occasion ; 
friends from the country and the neighboring towns were 
added to almost every family circle, and the parlors of the 
Acadian Hotel and the little tavern on the hill were lively 
with the incoming and outgoing of transient guests. 

As for Laura, who might be considered the prima donna 
of the occasion, she announced at the breakfast-table her in- 
tention of going off alone to the light-house to spend the 
forenoon. Her dress was already arranged : it was to be the 
black grenadine, with an exquisite white lace cape over the 
shoulders, enlivened by blue ribbons and a bouquet of rose- 
buds. And she knew there was no need of practising her 
parts any more. But she felt nervous at the thought of 
appearing before a large audience of strangers, and she had 
learned from experience that to wander away into the woods 


THE CONCERT 299 

and enjoy the tranquillity of nature was the best way to 
strengthen herself for the approaching task. 

“ 1 don’t like the idea of your staying in the woods by 
yourself,” said Mrs. Preble, as Laura was putting on her hat 
up-stairs. “ Suppose a tramp should come along, or some- 
body should shoot at a bird ?” 

“ There is not the least danger,” replied Laura. “ I shall 
stay near the light-house ; and the dog is there : I saw him 
yesterday. And they don’t allow shooting in the woods. 
I would rather be alone, I feel so nervous. I suppose it is 
because I have not sung for so long. I don’t want to talk, 
for fear of making myself hoarse, and if anybody goes with 
me I shall be sure to talk. The exercise will do me good, 
and afterwards I will stay up here and keep quiet all the 
afternoon. So don’t fret about me, mammy. I shall stay 
within sight and hearing of the light-house, and there is 
always somebody at the window or the door.” 

In spite of her anxiety, Laura enjoyed every step of the 
familiar walk. She paused to admire the waxy blossoms of 
the scarlet-and-white fuchsias in Mrs. Reed’s window, and the 
brilliant variety of hardier flowers in Mrs. Freethy’s neat 
garden, and she spent a full quarter of an hour playing with 
Captain Collins’s tame gray parrot, which flew from the fence 
to her shoulder and resisted with very distinctly spoken oaths 
Mrs. Collins’s polite endeavor to remove him, until at last 
a lump of sugar proved a sufficient temptation, and he con- 
descended to walk down Laura’s arm and step from her 
finger to the fence again. She went on her way, glad to leave 
the habitations of men behind her, and to find herself in the 
narrow grassy path by the rocky bank, with the murmuring 
sea at her left, and at her right the wide, silent common, 
ending in the dark thicket of firs and pines. The dog saw 
her from afar and came bounding down the slope to meet her, 
and the keeper’s wife nodded to her from the window as she 
passed by. 

Seated under a tree, with the lovely view spread out before 
her and the plashing of the waves making music in her ear, 
Laura could have spent a delightful morning, if thoughts 
of the evening’s work had not continually interrupted her 
revery. She was angry with herself that she should always 
have this struggle to undergo before singing in public. She 


300 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL. 


called to her aid all the arguments she had been wont to 
employ to strengthen her will and arouse her courage for such 
occasions. She said to herself, over and over again, “ Nobody 
else there can sing those pieces so well as you can. Those 
who understand music will see that you know what you are 
about ; those who do not understand it will be pleased, with- 
out knowing why ; and, if they are not pleased, what does it 
matter? Think of your mother, — how mortified she would 
be if you were to break down, — how badly your father 
would feel to hear of it, — how Lilian would secretly rejoice 
at your failure !” (This last idea had a more bracing effect 
than any other.) “ Think how ashamed you would be to 
meet Mr. Cleaveland !” 

Here she recalled many looks and words of his which had 
proved his fine appreciation of her performance. She was 
conscious that she had always sung her best when he was 
listening, just because she was aware of his intelligent criti- 
cism. And now the suggestion flashed upon her mind to sing 
on this occasion entirely to and for him. 

“ I will do it !” she exclaimed. “ And I can do it ; I feel 
that I can,” she pursued. “ I shall sing as I never sang 
before, and he will perceive the difference, but he will never 
guess its cause. Now I am free ! I can begin to enjoy 
myself!” 

She arose with a light laugh, and wandered, refreshed and 
strengthened, among the moss-laden trees, followed gladly by 
the dog whose head she often stopped to pat, while her gaze 
took in the exquisite glimpses of bay and islands revealed 
between the overhanging boughs. The light-house woods 
had done their work, and after a hasty visit to the spring, and 
a glance at the initials carved by Mr. Cleaveland upon the 
birch-tree, she turned towards home, her nervousness all dis- 
pelled, her soul impatient for the hour when it should pour 
itself forth in song. 

At dinner-time the hotel-table was well filled with guests, 
and Laura, though she did not know it, was the observed of 
all observers, Mrs. Turner having duly iuformed the strangers 
that the young lady with yellow hair was going to be the prin- 
cipal singer at the concert. Handsome girls like Lilian and 
Miss Hartwell were not so rare ; but a girl who had lived 
several years in Europe and studied singing there was not to 


THE CONCERT. 


301 


be met with every day. Accordingly, sharp notice was taken 
of her looks and ways, and all ears were open to her casual 
words, in the hope that some token of her power in singing 
might betray itself in the tones of her speaking voice. 

A still greater treat was expected at tea-time, when Laura 
would no doubt appear in full dress with low neck and short 
sleeves and a broad lace berthe , according to the pictures of 
famous cant a trice upon the title-pages of their special songs. 

But she did not appear at all. After a good sleep in Sarah’s 
bedroom, where she could lie undisturbed as long as she liked, 
she arose and dressed herself and took her ease in the large 
arm-chair by the window, with the last Atlantic by way of 
amusement, while her mother and Sarah sat by and sewed and 
chatted without demanding any response from her. Lilian 
and Miss Hartwell were out walking with Mr. Cleaveland, and 
no one came to interrupt them the whole afternoon. 

u Let us go on ahead,” said Laura, as the closing doors in 
various parts of the house announced that the occupants had 
retired to their rooms to prepare for the concert. “ I want 
to walk slowly, and I don’t want to talk, and we are going 
to assemble in the vestry a good while before the time to 
sing. You and Sarah can select a good place, and the others 
will know where to find you. I will tell Lilian as we go by 
her door. Left-hand aisle, about half-way up, I will say, 
shall I ?” 

Laura had another reason for wanting to go to the church 
in advance of the others. She had not seen Mr. Cleaveland 
since she bade him good-morning at breakfast. Her re- 
flections in the light-house woods had elevated him to a 
higher plane than that of the ordinary intercourse of daily 
life, and she did not wish the impression disturbed. If she 
must sing to him, she would rather not think of him as one 
of a crowd hurrying up the village street and struggling for 
an eligible pew in the limited space of the village meeting- 
house. She must see from the gallery his handsome head 
and graceful figure as a surprise, and remember only the most 
interesting moments of their acquaintance, — moonlight walks, 
singing on the water, sunsets at the fort, morning greetings in 
the dewy garden. 

Only a very few persons were in the church when they en- 
tered. It was understood that people should sit where they 

26 


302 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL . 


cliose, — “ first come, first served consequently, many pre- 
ferred to leave their own pews to whomsoever might be late 
enough to need them and to go themselves up higher, where 
they could obtain a better view of the performers. Others, 
again, whose pews happened to be near the upper end, took 
pains to be early in their places, saying that they could enjoy 
the music much better in their accustomed seats. 

Laura went with her mother and Sarah to see them com- 
fortably placed. They chose a wall pew in the left aisle about 
half-way up, as Laura had told Lilian, where Mrs. Preble 
would not feel the draught and would have a corner to lean 
against. 

Laura glanced up at the gallery and saw that it would com- 
mand a good view of the pew and its occupants. 

“ It is as though I were going to be married and you were 
here to look on !” she said, with a gay smile, as she turned to 
leave them. 

“ I hope you don’t feel anxious,” replied Mrs. Preble. “ I 
wish you had thought to take a drop of aconite for your 
nerves, or a drop of spongia for your voice !” 

“ Oh, I don’t need anything,” replied Laura. “ I’ve thought 
it all over, and I don’t feel a bit afraid. You see if I don’t 
do better than I ever did before !” 

“ It is too bad that Mr. Leering was obliged to go away !” 
exclaimed Sarah, as she folded her shawl and opened her fan. 

“ And, Laura,” said her mother, “ do tell that man who is 
lighting the lamps to be sure they don’t flame up too high. 
It wouldn’t help the singing to have a chimney break and 
fall down upon the people below. You remember how the 
lamps used to act in the Munich orchestra once in a while.” 

“ I know. I’ll see about it,” said Laura, as she nodded a 
good-by and left the pew. She had only just disappeared up 
the stairs when Mr. Cleaveland and the two young ladies en- 
tered. Miss Hartwell hurried to secure a good seat upon the 
platform, which was beginning to fill up, and the others joined 
Mrs. Preble and Sarah in the pew. Before they had taken 
their places, Laura opened the gallery door and came forward 
to speak to the man about the lamps. Mr. Cleaveland looked 
up and saw her. He waved his hat in a speedy and surrep- 
titious manner, so as not to attract the attention of others, 
and she waved her handkerchief in reply. She was glad of 


THE CONCERT. 


303 


the incident ; it seemed to put her en rapport with him and 
to strengthen her decision about making him the object of 
her song. 

Lilian’s plans had thus far succeeded. Miss Hartwell was 
out of the way, and, although she might be looking “ as pretty 
as a pink” to the persons nearest her, she was too far off to 
dazzle Mr. Cleaveland’s eyes. Mrs. Preble and Sarah were 
taken up with each other, and she herself was happy by Mr. 
Cleaveland’s side. But a new fear arose to torment her. The 
church was evidently going to be very full. Their pew would 
easily hold two more persons, and if any men should happen 
to come along — she saw a group in the aisle looking their way 
that very minute — she would be obliged to move up next to 
Sarah and thus lose all chance of the delight she had antici- 
pated in sitting for a whole evening close to the man she was 
beginning to adore. And he was so provokingly heedless of 
his opportunity ! He was looking up and down and every- 
where, watching the people come in, and apparently enjoying 
the unwonted excitement of the worthy citizens. He was so 
fearfully polite, it would be just like him to fill up the pew 
with a lot of old women and then go off and lean against one of 
the gallery pillars the whole evening ! Something must be 
done, and nobody but she could do it. Already long benches 
were being brought into the aisles, and if one should be put 
in front of their pew she was doomed ! For women could 
not climb over the pew door, but men could, and there would 
certainty be a rush for seats just at the last minute. A bright 
idea struck her. 

“ Please let me pass,” she said to Mr. Cleaveland. “ I have 
a letter for Laura which came after she left the house. I 
must give it to her.” 

“ Wouldn’t it be better to wait till the concert is over?” he 
suggested. “ There might be something in it to disturb her, 
and she needs all her self-possession at present.” 

“ Oh, no ; this letter cannot disturb her. On the contrary, 
she will feel all the happier for receiving it,” replied Lilian, 
with a meaning smile, intended to convey to Mr. Cleaveland 
the idea of an absent lover whose affectionate messages would 
serve as antidote to constraint and fear. He made no answer, 
but rose and opened the pew door. 

“ Keep a seat for me,” she whispered, as she passed him. 


304 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL. 


She wanted to add, “ by you,” but did not venture. Surely 
she might trust that much to his ingenuity ! 

Laura, sitting in the vestry-room in the midst of her mu- 
sical companions, was extremely surprised to see Lilian stand- 
ing in the door-way and beckoning to her. She hastened to 
the door. 

“ What is the matter ?” she cried. “ Is mother faint ?” 

“ No, indeed,” said Lilian, reassuringly: “I only brought 
you this letter. It came after you went away, and I thought 
you might like to read it while you are waiting.” 

“It is from brother Tom,” said Laura. “I am much 
obliged to you, but it could have waited just as well. I hope 
you haven’t lost your seat. Won’t you come in and let me 
introduce you to these young ladies?” 

“ Oh, no ; I must hurry down : it is almost time.” 

“ Now, what could have possessed her to come up here with 
that letter ?” mused Laura, as she returned to her companions. 
“ It means something, but I can’t see what.” 

Lilian did not go back immediately. She lingered in the 
hall at a point from whence she could command the situation 
and be ready to dart to her place if necessary. Her plan was 
to wait until some pair of women, forlorn enough to be spoken 
to by a stranger, should come along, and these she would 
escort in triumph to the pew ; they would go in obedi- 
ently and be glad to have somebody between their insignifi- 
cant selves and the imposing-looking man at the door. But 
for some time her waiting was unrewarded. The people came 
by families, by groups, or by individuals, all apparently feel- 
ing quite at home and abundantly able to help themselves to 
seats. At last, to Lilian’s great joy, she espied the familiar 
faces of Lucindy and Almiry, somewhat disguised in their 
Sunday head-gear, it is true, but quite recognizable to so eager 
a watcher as Lilian. Her aristocratic notions were for the 
moment scattered to the winds. She welcomed the “ help” as 
women and sisters. They had saved her from anxiety akin to 
despair. 

“ Come in with me,” she said, stepping forward. “ There 
is room in our pew for you both.” 

Delighted with their good luck, the two girls followed the 
rapid steps of the fashiouable young lady who had never be- 
fore condescended to speak to them excepting to give an order, 


THE CONCERT. 305 

and in a few moments all were quietly seated and Lilian’s bliss 
was fairly begun. 

Mr. Cleaveland seemed to have had enough of staring at 
the congregation. He put his hat away under the footstool 
and moved into the angle of the seat, so that he was partly 
facing his handsome neighbor. She saw out of the corner of 
her eye that his glance was wandering over her elegant cos- 
tume, pausing at her spotless gloves, her carved fan, her gos- 
samer handkerchief, and resting with prolonged scrutiny upon 
the intricate puffings of her “ front breadth.” 

It was no time to talk ; there was too much confusion on 
all sides ; it would be better to keep her bright remarks for 
the intervals in the programme. So she sat demurely silent 
and let him study her dress at his leisure. It was delight 
enough to be so near him, sitting upon the same seat, leaning 
against the same cushions, his shoulder towering up beside her 
head like a wall of support, his hand resting carelessly upon his 
knee in close proximity to the folds of her overskirt, his busy 
foot jarring the stool upon which her own feet were pressed. 
Once Mrs. Preble leaned forward to speak to him, and in 
moving to reply he laid his arm upon the back of the seat, nor 
did he take it away for several minutes after he had resumed 
his position. She felt the warm contact against her shoulder; 
involuntarily she moved a little nearer to him and glanced up 
into his face. He was not looking at her ; but either he was 
conscious of her action or else his sense of propriety reminded 
him that he had assumed an easy attitude not exactly suited 
to a church, and he withdrew his arm and sat upright. 

“ It won’t be long before he puts it back there,” said Lilian 
to herself : “ he is too tall to be comfortable in such a box of 
a pew as this is.” 

Just then a great hush fell upon the congregation. The 
pastor — who, although he had given up his platform to the 
public, still retained an arm-chair in the middle of the front 
row— was standing with raised hands to enforce silence for 
the opening prayer. He prayed that those who were to sing 
might make melody in their hearts unto the Lord, and that 
those who listened might find the sacred anthems blessed 
to their souls. There was not a word about the real pur- 
pose of the concert, and yet everybody knew that it was to 
buy carpets for the platform and aisles, and many had already 

26 * 


u 


306 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL. 


counted heads enough to warrant the indulgence of a hope 
that there would be money enough to leave a surplus for the 
building of the long-needed horse-shed. 

Laura listeued to the prayer with apparent reverence. 
“ What would the minister think of me,” she asked herself, 
“ if he knew that I had deliberately planned to make melody 
in my heart to that sinful child of Adam over yonder ?” 

And Mr. Cleaveland, with decently-covered face, was think- 
ing, “ I wonder whether that letter was really from somebody 
she likes.” 

So curiously do our thoughts run at cross-purposes ! Be- 
fore taking his seat, the pastor made once for all the request 
that the congregation would rise at the beginning of the prel- 
ude to each piece, in order to avoid disturbing the singers 
later. Consequently, when Laura stood up beside the organist 
to be ready for the opening solo, the eyes of all the people — 
that is, of the majority who were so fortunate as to have places 
commanding a view of the gallery — were fixed upon her. 

She looked very lovely, as Mrs. Preble with the pride of a 
mother, and Lilian with the jealousy of a rival, instantly per- 
ceived. The closed crimson curtains softened the light from 
the row of lamps beneath, and the fleecy cape upon her shoul- 
ders gave her the effect of being clad in white lace. A light 
just above the door shed its ray upon her head, bringing out 
the golden hue of her fair curls ; a tiny diamond star glittered 
in the knot of blue ribbon at her throat ; the bouquet of pale- 
pink rose-buds lent their freshness to her soft attire. 

“ My heart ever faithful,” were the first words which rang 
out from the pure soprano voice, and she thought of Mr. 
Cleaveland as she uttered them. It was only for a moment ; 
then she was sure of herself, and felt free to express the 
ecstasy of joy which the quaintly merry composition demands. 

She would have preferred not to sing first, and had ventured 
to propose that the concert should be opened with a chorus ; 
but the young ladies had declared that they should feel a 
great deal more confidence if she would only “ break the ice,” 
and so she consented. 

There was abundant applause in the form of clapping of 
hands, and a low murmur of discussion filled up the interval 
between her hymn and the beautiful “ Veni y Domine ,” of Men- 
delssohn, in which she had the solo part. 


THE CONCERT. 


307 


There were Latin scholars enough in the congregation to 
whisper around the interpretation of the text, and the oft-re- 
peated “ et noli tar dare''' was answered by many a pious Puri- 
tan heart in the vernacular, “ Come, Lord, tarry not !” 

Then followed several selections from the many singing- 
books — the Zundels, the Bradburys, the Root and Cadys — 
which crowd the shelf of every church-gallery. Laura took 
no part in these : she sat still and rested, and enjoyed the fine 
voices of her companions. She had begged especially for the 
quartet which she had heard in her first attendance at church, — 
“ Oh that I had wings like a dove 1” and the dark-eyed girl 
who sang the solo passages, pleased with Laura’s appreciation, 
put more pathos than ever into her soft complaint. It was 
beautiful, and the simple melody was more gratifying to the 
majority of the pedple down-stairs than were the intricate 
harmonies of the classical pieces. They liked to hear familiar 
airs, to know what was coming. 

Laura’s most difficult task was the aria “ On Mighty Pens.” 
She dreaded it the more because on other occasions she had 
been accompanied by an orchestra, and now there was only the 
little cabinet-organ, good of its kind and tastefully and accu- 
rately played, but still apt to be overweeningly blatant as to 
the bass and obtrusively reedy as to the treble. However, 
by the time the prelude was finished, she had wrought herself 
into the proper mood. She imagined herself sitting on the 
northwest bastion of the fort in the moonlight, with her friends 
around her, and Mr. Cleaveland’s motionless figure betraying 
his absorbed delight in her singing. Accordingly, she was 
ready to soar on high with the proud eagle, while her voice 
took on a bewitching tenderness in the cooing of the mated 
doves and the liquid melody of the nightingale’s song. She 
glanced at the unconscious object of her thoughts as her 
voice lingered upon the final tone, and the slightly-bent head, 
the lowered eye, and folded arms told her that she had suc- 
ceeded. 

After another interval of hymn and chorus came her last 
piece, which was also the last on the programme, it having 
been considered a delicate compliment to her excellence as a 
singer and her generosity as a coworker to have her both open 
and close the concert with a solo. “ I know that my Redeemer 
liveth” was the selection, and herein Laura was able to prove 


308 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL. 


to the whole audience her superiority in musical gifts and train- 
ing ; for the piece was familiar as well as magnificent, and the 
listeners had heard it indifferently performed often enough to 
know when it was well done. 

It was almost sufficient to make the few Unitarians in the 
congregation “orthodox,” to hear the full security expressed 
by Laura’s tones in the* thrice-repeated “ I know that my Re- 
deemer liveth.” Mr. Cleaveland could scarcely repress a smile 
as he thought of the recent conversation in the garden, when 
the singer’s definition of sin had been far enough from any 
suggestion of a Saviour, and Lilian recalled her cousin’s indig- 
nant denial of the very existence of the passage in Job when 
they had talked about death in the graveyard. 

“ Didn’t I tell you she would sing all the better for that 
letter ?” whispered Lilian, as Laura’s voice died away upon the 
last word. 

Mr. Cleaveland did not thank her for the interruption. His 
closed eyes burned with unshed tears as he thought of his lost 
mother among “ them that sleep,” and nothing less pare and 
sweet than Laura’s tone was in keeping with that sacred mel- 
ody. Moreover, the suggestion was painful. He felt more 
lonely than ever at the thought of Laura appropriated by 
another, and a pang akin to jealousy shot across his mind as 
he imagined her ascribing her present success to the influence 
of an absent lover. 

Lilian was far from dreaming of the emotion she had 
awakened by her well-planned deceit. She meant to keep 
Mr. Cleaveland from thinking seriously of Laura, but she 
had no idea that he had already begun to think of her. 

As for herself, the evening had been a happy one, and she 
regretted the necessity of moving and preparing to leave the 
pew. All her sneers against the countrified practice of 
turning round to stare at the singers were forgotten when she 
found what a good chance was thereby afforded to stand close 
to Mr. Cleaveland without being noticed. She had time be- 
fore every piece to whisper a few words to him, and in moving 
her head to do so her cheek was sure to brush his coat-sleeve. 
It seemed to her that every fibre of the wool shot out little 
sparks of electricity at the sudden contact, and the singing 
was unheeded in the bewildering rush of emotions which 
attended that accidental touch. She believed in her heart 


THE CONCERT. 


309 


that he too was thinking much more of her vicinity than of 
Laura’s distant voice ; for he kept his arms folded most of the 
time and looked on the ground, whereas if he had been pay- 
ing attention to the music he would have watched the people 
in the gallery. 

The occupants of the pews were obliged to wait until the 
benches had been removed from the aisles, and, as Mrs. Preble 
preferred not to go out with a crowd, our friends were among 
the last to leave the church. They waited in the vestibule 
for Laura. She came down in a few moments, with her head 
and throat properly muffled in a blue gauze shawl which 
formed a charming setting to her rosy cheeks and bright hair. 
Her eyes sparkled with unwonted fire. She was glad it was 
over, and glad that she had not broken down. 

“ You needn’t think I am going home with you !” she 
cried, as though to prevent congratulations. “ Our director 
has invited us all to an oyster-supper at his house. It is only 
a few steps up the street, and I am as hungry as a bear. 
You know I didn’t eat any supper.” 

“ But how will you get home ?” asked Mrs. Preble. 

“ Oh, they will see me home,” she answered ; and two or 
three of the singers following close behind hastened to assure 
Mrs. Preble that her daughter would be well taken care of. 

Laura’s manner was unusually shy as she bade Mr. Cleave- 
land good-night. She felt as though he must be aware that 
she had been thinking of him and of his criticism all the even- 
ing, and now that she was so near him again her partiality 
seemed like forwardness. 

If he had suspected the truth he would have gone home in 
a much happier frame of mind, and would not have sat by 
his open window until long after her return, thinking over 
her past conduct, and wondering whether her animated look 
as she came down the stairs could have been due to the recep- 
tion of the letter. 


310 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL. 


CHAPTER XXXVII. 

THE LADIES’ PARTY AT “ GRAY’S.” 

“ Now that Mr. Cleaveland’s foot is well again, I think we 
girls would better leave him a little more to himself,” said 
Laura to her mother the next morning. “ It was all proper 
enough so long as he was lame and obliged to paint in the 
neighborhood. But now he is going farther away in search 
of good situations, and I presume he would prefer to be alone 
once in a while, or perhaps with some of his gentlemen friends 
down town. There is such a thing as overdoing the matter 
in entertaining a young man. And I am afraid that Lilian 
and Miss Hartwell are in for a long chase. They show their 
rivalry so plainly that it spoils the good times we might other- 
wise have. I don’t know which way to look sometimes.” 

“ Why ? What do they do?” asked Mrs. Preble. 

u Well, Miss Hartwell is a little romp. She snatches away 
Mr. Cleaveland’s things, and then manoeuvres until she makes 
him struggle with her to get them back. He did it two or 
three times, but now he avoids the game. And she takes off 
his hat and puts it on her own head ; and she is all the time 
catching hold of his arm, or slapping him on the shoulder. 
She does it all so naturally, and she is so beautiful and grace- 
ful, that it doesn’t seem so bold as it really is : still, it is a 
nuisance.” 

“ And what does Lilian say to it ?” 

“ Oh, she looks angry and jealous and contemptuous by 
turns and all at once. And when her opportunity comes she 
is all softness and coyness and sentimentality. She makes 
such eyes at him when she is talking ! And you ought to see 
her playing chess, with her little finger stuck out, and her 
rings flashing in his face ! I sometimes think I never will 
play croquet with them again, she is so unfair. When she 
has him for a partner she cheats like everything, so as to have 
their side beat, and when he is playing against her she never 
will take any advantage, and she knocks his ball as though she 
were afraid of hurting it. I can’t tell by his manner whether 


THE LADIES' PARTY AT “GRAYS.” 311 

he sees through her nonsense, but really she is too ridicu- 
lous !” 

“ She is worse than ridiculous,” said Sarah, with a wise 
shake of the head. ‘ You mark my words, Laura, she will 
do you some mischief or other, if you don’t take care. I wish 
you wouldn’t rattle on in your lively way before her, — at least 
about anything or anybody here. She will take up your words 
and twist them around and repeat them in such a way as to 
mislead people. I know she will. I found out one of her 
tricks this very morning.” 

“ Pray, what was it?” asked Laura, with interest. 

“ Well, I happened to go down early to breakfast, and Mr. 
Cleaveland came in. We were talking about the weather, and 
I said your brother had just written how very hot it had been 
in Chicago. He asked further about it. I have forgotten 
just how he brought it around, but I found out at last that 
Lilian had made him think the letter she carried to you last 
night was from some beau of yours. He didn’t say so ; in- 
deed, he didn’t say that she told him anything; but I spelt it 
out from what he did say.” 

Laura laughed. “ How wise you are getting to be in such 
matters, now that you have a lover of your own !” she ex- 
claimed. 

“ Never mind. I am glad I had a chance to spoil that 
little game of hers,” replied Sarah. “ And I warn you not 
to trust her. She is head over ears in love with Mr. Cleave- 
land, and she won’t scruple to say or do anything to keep him 
away from other people.” 

“ There is no occasion for her manoeuvres,” said Laura. 
“ Mr. Cleaveland never shows particular attention to any one 
of us, and I don’t see why we cannot enjoy his society with- 
out further speculation. And I don’t want to go over to High 
Head with them, either. I know he didn’t mean to ask us. 
He happened to mention that he was going there to paint, and 
the girls proposed at once that we should make up a party. 
He assented with very good grace, but I thought he looked 
rather taken aback.” 

“ Then don’t go,” said her mother. u The others will 
hardly venture without you. Lilian is so timid on the water 
that she will be frightened out of the idea if you are not 
there to yield to her whims about rowing slowly.” 


312 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL: 


“ You were a mortally long time at the door. Pray, what 
is up ?” cried Lilian, as Laura at last entered the dining-room 
and took her seat at the tea-table. Mr. Cleaveland had not 
been seen since his early start for High Head, and Lilian was 
in a great worry for fear that Laura had met him in the hall 
and stopped to flirt with him instead of coming in to supper. 

“ I was talking with two of my concert friends,” said Laura. 
u They came to give an invitation for a picnic at ‘ Gray’s.’ I 
asked them in, but they couldn’t stop. They were in a great 
hurry, for they decided only this afternoon to go: the weather 
was too uncertain, they thought ; but now the barometer is 
rising, and the clouds are just where they ought to be, and so 
it is all right.” 

“ Is the picnic for the singers alone ?” 

“ No. All the singers are not going. It is a small party. 
They go every summer together. You are invited, too. I 
told them that Sarah was going to Bucksport to-morrow, and 
that Miss Hartwell was confined to her bed with a cold, so 
you and I are the only ones left.” 

“ Did you mention Mr. Cleaveland ?” 

“ Oh, they never invite gentlemen. Didn’t I tell you? It 
is a small company of ladies, unmarried, and not so very young, 
old friends, who have a picnic every summer by themselves, 
besides joining all the others that are given by people in gen- 
eral. It must be pleasant. And yet I should think it would 
be rather sad to assemble every year in the same spot, espe- 
cially when they miss any of their number, taken away by 
death or by marriage.” 

“ Yes, sad for them ; but the one who is missed must re- 
joice — I mean, if it is being married that keeps her away. 
Hpavens ! I can’t conceive of anything more doleful ! It makes 
me blue only to think of it. It’s catching, too. You’d better 
not go.” 

“ Oh, the thought of being an old maid has no terrors for 
me, as you know already. It will not be doleful at all over 
there. We shall enjoy it, I am sure. It will be a novelty, 
and you are always wishing that something would happen. 
You wanted to row over to High Head to-day, and this is still 
better.” 

“ No, you don’t catch me in any such scrape. I am not 
going to be drowned by a parcel of old maids.” 


THE LADIES ’ PARTY AT “GRAY'S.” 313 


“ But they don’t row themselves. Their brothers take them 
over in the morning, and come after them in the evening.” 

“ Well, that’s cool ! They make the men take all that 
trouble, and then don’t even invite them to land !” 

“ But it is only once a year, and there are picnics enough 
where they all go.” 

“ Thank you. You can accept, if you want to. As for me, 
I can’t encourage such impoliteness.” 

“ I have accepted, very gladly. And they will be disap- 
pointed if you don’t come too. You know some of the ladies 
already, and I don’t know them all myself.” 

“ No, I don’t want to go. Besides, it will look rather cruel 
to leave Miss Hartwell all day alone. Dr. Stevens says she 
must not go out of her room yet awhile.” 

“ How I wish I had been at home when Dr. Stevens 
came !” cried Laura. “ I have heard so much about him. 
They say he is very learned ; he reads and studies all the 
time. And he knows the history of Castine by heart. And 
he is a hero, besides. Old as he is, he goes to visit the sick 
on the islands away off in the bay, in all kinds of weather, 
winter, and summer, and never takes a cent of pay from 
poor people. It does one good to hear of such a man. And 
I am afraid his kind is dying out. As for Miss Hartwell, 
mother will see to her : Sarah and Mr. Deering are going off 
early, and mother will have nothing else to do. And I’m sure 
you haven’t shown her much attention yet. Yesterday you 
wouldn’t go near her, for fear her cold might turn out to be 
diphtheria, and to-day you didn’t stay more than five minutes 
in her room. You didn’t find it cruel to spend the whole fore- 
noon in the garden with Mr. Cleaveland, and yet she was just 
as much alone as though you had been over to ‘ Gray’s.’ ” 

“ The doctor said she must be quiet,” replied Lilian, meekly. 
“ And there was nothing to hinder your coming into the gar- 
den too, if you had wanted to come.” 

“ I didn’t want to. I think we ought to leave Mr. Cleave- 
land a little more to himself. It looks like running after him 
to be always around where he is.” 

“ Dear me ! he isn’t obliged to come if he doesn’t choose.” 

“Yes, he is in a manner obliged to come. You asked him 
this morning ; how could he refuse ? And you almost always 
propose the walks and the parties, — you or Miss Hartwell. I 
o 27 


314 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL. 


think it would be as well to wait once in a while and let him 
suggest the programme for the day. And I don’t see how 
you can reconcile it with your love for Horace Grinnell to be 
so devoted to Mr. Cleaveland !” 

Lilian colored. “ Mr. Cleaveland and I are very good 
friends,” she said, with an assumption of dignity. “ But we 
were talking about this picnic. Please give my excuses to 
the ladies. You can tell them what you like ; but as for 
broiling out in the sun all day at 1 Gray’s,’ I am not going to 
do anything of the kind.” 

“ Very well. You’ll be sorry when you hear what a nice 
time I had,” said Laura, as she rose from the table and went 
up-stairs to talk over the project with her mother. 

Lilian lay awake a long time that night, thinking of what 
the morrow might possibly bring in the way of a revelation 
of Mr. Cleaveland’s heart. Laura and Sarah away for the 
whole day ; Miss Hartwell confined to her room ; Mrs. Preble 
obliged in decency to pay attention to the sick girl : she had 
never had so good a chance before, and she was resolved not 
to let it pass unimproved. 

The morning dawned fair and still ; the sun rose up in an 
unclouded sky ; the slight breeze was from the northwest : 
everybody prophesied a beautiful day. 

Laura’s friends called soon after breakfast, and Lilian, after 
waiting in her room until she had heard Sarah and Mr. 
Deering drive away from the door and her aunt enter Miss 
Hartwell’s chamber, took a book and went down into the 
garden, hoping to find Mr. Cleaveland there before her. But 
the arbor was empty, and so was the long gravel-walk. A 
cold fear darted through her mind that he might have gone 
down to the wharf to see the party on their way ; but no, — 
that was not likely. He was not acquainted with the ladies, 
and his gentlemen friends were not going ; indeed, the desire 
of the company to keep to themselves would prevent his doing 
anything that looked like “ hanging on.” Besides, it was 
very early : he might have letters to write, or something else 
on hand to keep him busy for a while. But he was not in 
his room when she came down. Could he have started on 
one of his long walks, or gone off sketching? No ; he would 
not have done either without telling her about it, knowing 
as he did that she was to be left at home alone all day. He 


THE LADIES' PARTY AT “ GRAY'S .” 


315 


was too kind-hearted and polite for that. She had told him 
at breakfast that she should spend the forenoon in the gar- 
den. Perhaps that had kept him from announcing any plan 
of his own and asking her to go with him. What if she had 
overreached herself in trying to make sure of his company? 
The idea was agony. “ He may even have supposed that I 
wished to be alone,” she thought. “ But no ; he must have 
seen too many evidences of my liking for his society.” And 
Lilian blushed as she recalled smiles and glances of hers which 
had seemed to arrest his attention and to set him thinking. 

All the while he did not come. The morning wore away. 
The breeze died in the increasing heat. The fishing-boats 
came back from their early work. It must be after ten 
o’clock, she thought. Through the vine-leaves she could see 
Mrs. Preble sitting at the window : what if she should take 
it into her head to bring her work down into the garden ? 
She heard a step, and all her senses were on the alert. Alas ! 
it was only that provoking Lucindy coming after a table-cloth 
which had been left on the grass to bleach. She tried to for- 
get her anxiety in the pages of “ Daniel Deronda.” She had 
chosen that book because it was a philosophical novel and 
might serve as a subject of conversation in the expected in- 
terview. But it seemed heavy and stupid to her now in this 
time of fierce distress, and she flung it upon the table and 
wrung her hands in her impatience. The precious minutes 
were slipping by, and still the desire of her heart remained 
afar. 

“ ‘ He cometh not/ she said.” 

The bell for noon rang out from the church-steeple. 

“ And dinner is at one !” she cried. “ Where is that man ?” 

Weary and restless, she left the arbor and went over to the 
fence. Here she was hidden from the view of any one in her 
aunt’s chamber, while her position commanded the rest of the 
house and the whole of the garden. 

Only Minnie was in sight, playing in the water-tub by the 
kitchen door as usual, in spite of all the scoldings and slaps 
she had received on that score from her impatient step-sister. 

Lilian glanced along the row of upper windows. Her own 
blinds were closed, as she had left them, but Mr. Cleaveland’s 
were open, and yet she had heard Almiry shut them before 


316 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL . 


she came down-stairs. He must- be up there ! She gazed 
with sharpened sight, and was sure she could perceive the 
outline of his head a little back from the window. She be- 
thought herself of a trick she had often practised in church, 
whereby, in accordance with some unexplained law of mag- 
netism, a person can be made to look round by a steady gaze 
directed at the back of his or her head. If will have anything 
to do with this influence, no better magnetizer than Lilian 
could have been found for this occasion ; and, lo ! her attempt 
was rewarded with success. The dark crown of hair slowly 
turned, and a white forehead became visible ; then the figure 
arose and came to the window, looked out, and vanished, to 
appear in due time at the outside door. 

Lilian retreated to the arbor, and listened with beating 
heart to the approaching footsteps. But, alas ! he did not 
come alone. Capering beside him, holding to his coat-skirts 
and smiling up into his face, was pert, inquisitive Minnie, and 
Lilian groaned in spirit as she recalled Mr. Cleaveland’s many 
frolics with the child, and his patient endurance of her com- 
pany in her quieter moods. There was no getting rid of her ; 
the interview would be completely spoiled by her presence, — 
detestable little monkey ! If a glance could have annihilated 
Minnie then and there, Lilian would not have hesitated an 
instant to bestow it ; as it was, she devoted her energies to the 
suppression of every sign of disappointment and ill temper, 
and was able to greet her visitor with a smile and to ignore 
altogether the existence of his little companion. 

44 Where have you kept yourself all the morning ?” she 
asked, in a tone of gentle reproach. 44 I began to think that 
the ladies had relented and carried you off to 4 Gray’s’.” 

44 No, I did not see them at all,” he replied. 44 1 had an 
errand down town which kept me a good while, and since then 
I have been writing some business letters which could not 
wait.” 

44 It is such a dreamy morning !” said Lilian, in a dreamy 
voice. 44 Nobody ought to be plagued with work in such 
weather.” 

44 Yes, and what a view !” he exclaimed. 44 It is always 
changing, always new ! That reminds me, I received this 
morning a packet of photographs of scenery in the northern 
part of this State. Would you like to look at them?” 


THE LADIES' PARTY AT “ GRAY'S." 


317 


“ Yes, indeed !” 

“ I will go up and get them. Let me go, Minnie,” he said 
to the child, who held fast to his arm. He loosed himself 
from her playful grasp and hurried up the walk. Minnie 
followed a few steps and then turned towards the arbor again. 
But she met a look so concentrated in its expression of hatred 
and aversion that her progress was arrested, and she stood 
still, gazing back with intuitive dread while she fingered un- 
easily with her apron, and finally held it out to its full width 
in both her hands, and drew the hem back and forth across 
her lips in her embarrassment. 

“ Go away !” said Lilian, in a firm, low tone, keeping her 
gaze upon the astonished child. “ Go back and play in the 
water !” 

“ Sister says I mustn’t,” answered Minnie, oblivious of a 
whole forenoon of disobedience. “ And I’d rather stay here 
with Mr. Cleaveland.” 

Lilian hesitated. She dared not say much, for fear it would 
all be repeated. She opened her pocket-book and took out 
twenty-five cents. 

u See here,” she said ; “ you must be dull playing all alone. 
Bun down street and buy some candy.” 

“ Sister says I mustn’t go down street alone,” persisted the 
child, still drawing her apron back and forth across her cheeks, 
and still staring into the blazing eyes of her secret enemy. 

It was too late. Mr. Cleaveland was at hand, and Lilian 
withdrew her spell and sat in graceful ease awaiting the pho- 
tographs and their owner. 

There was one comfort ; she had a good excuse to draw 
very near to Mr. Cleaveland as they examined the rather 
small pictures, and she could bend her face close to his ex- 
plaining finger as he pointed out the course of his recent tour. 
But Minnie was leaning on the table at the other side and in- 
terrupting all that was said and done with her childish queries 
and restless movements. And every minute the dinner-bell 
might ring and put an end to their long-delayed and cruelly- 
hampered interview ! 

At last came a shrill cry from an upper window, — a voice 
from heaven it seemed to Lilian’s tortured spirit. “ Minnie ! 
Minnie !” the voice uttered ; but Minnie gave no answer. 

“ Your sister wants you to go up and get ready for dinner,” 
27 * 


318 LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL . 

said Lilian, in her most persuasive tones ; but Minnie did not 
stir. 

“ You must go,” said Mr. Cleaveland, lifting her down from 
the bench : “ your sister is not well, and you must not keep 
her waiting.” 

“ That wa’n’t my sister ; it was Almiry,” said the child. 

“No matter ; your sister sent her. So run along as fast as 
you can.” And she yielded to the authority in his tone, and 
went. 

Lilian was not going to waste any time in remarks upon 
Minnie’s ways. She went on with the examination of the 
photographs as though there had been no interruption, dis- 
playing the liveliest interest in the scenes of the recent cam- 
paign, and frequently lifting her great dark eyes to her com- 
panion’s face as he related some incident of the day’s tramp. 

If the kitchen fire would only go out, or the stove-pipe fall 
down, or something happen to make dinner late ! 

Soon she entered upon a subject more personal than the 
events of the excursion. 

“ What a handsome ring you wear !” she said, as she lightly 
touched his little finger with her own. 

“ Yes,” he replied. “ It was our family crest in old times. 
My father used to wear the original ring, and he had this fac- 
simile made for me. It is well he did, for he lost his own 
some time before his death.” 

“ Oh, what a pity !” cried Lilian, bending her head to ex- 
amine the device. There was silence for a moment, and then, 
fearful lest he might return to the photographs, she laid her 
own jewelled hand close to his. 

“ How do you like my rings ?” she asked, glancing up at 
him. 

“ They are very handsome,” he replied, stooping a little, and 
examining them attentively. “ The little intaglio is an Egyp- 
tian stone, I suppose.” 

“ Yes, and it really is an antique,” she answered. “ I got 
it before there was such a scramble for them as there is 
now.” 

She pulled off the ring in haste, and slipped it upon his 
little finger. But it would go no farther than the first joint. 

“ My hand is a good deal smaller than yours,” she said, with 
a happy laugh. 


THE LADIES' PARTY AT 11 GRAYS .' 1 


319 


“ Of course,” he replied, coolly. He bent his finger, and the 
ring fell upon the table. She waited an instant to see whether 
he would pick it up and place it where it belonged, but he did 
not, and so she put it on herself. Then she playfully caught 
his hand and spread it open on the table and laid her own upon 
it, finger for finger, as though to measure the difference in 
size, working away with a busy, innocent manner, as though 
she were a child. He suffered it all in silence, waiting to see 
what she would do. Amazed at his passiveness, she looked up 
at him ; but it was no child’s gaze which sought his regard. 
Her hand lay warm upon his own, her cheeks were flushing 
with the contact, and a pleading look was in her softened eyes, 
while her ruddy lips quivered as though anticipating the 
passionate kiss which would be likely to reward her adroit 
advances. 

For a moment he was tempted to yield. 

“ If she will have it so, why not?” he said to himself, and 
looked at her with a free, bold glance, at which her heart 
leaped wildly while the flush upon her cheeks mounted to her 
brow. 

For a moment only ; then he was himself again. And this 
time it was not the thought of his mother that saved him ; it 
was the memory of Laura’s voice : 

“ Schiitzt vor Gefahr ihn, bringt gesund 
Zuriick mir meinen Einen!” 

she had sung only the evening before in the very place where 
he was now sitting beside the temptress. 

“ Gesund /” he murmured, as he moved, and disturbed the 
dangerous silence by rattling the photographs with his disen- 
gaged hand. 

Lilian sighed and removed her hand. 

“ Do you believe in magnetism ?” she asked, softly, not 
wishing him to perceive that she recognized the full signifi- 
cance of his change of manner. 

“ Yes, of course,” he answered, in his ordinary tone. “ It 
is a sufficient explanation of many 4 miracles,’ and one of the 
most powerful remedial agents in disease.” 

Liiian knew his tendency to expatiate upon professional 
subjects which, she more than half suspected, had been more 


320 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL. 


than once made use of to avoid embarrassing situations, and 
£he hastened to change the theme. 

“ Didn’t you feel lonesome sleeping in the woods beside the 
fire ?” she asked, tenderly. 

“ Lonesome ! no,” he answered, merrily. “ There were 
always two of us, and sometimes more, and we talked until 
we were tired, and then slept like logs till morning.” 

Lilian wished, as she had often wished before, that he would 
show more sentiment in his choice of expressions. With his 
handsome face and superb form he might make himself per- 
fectly irresistible if he would only be a little more romantic 
and turn his unusual advantages more to account in various 
ways. She liked to think of him lying asleep like Steerforth 
“ with his head upon his arm,” and here he must needs go 
and say that he slept like a log ! 

“ Perhaps, after all, it is a mercy that he has such a down- 
right, matter-of-fact manner,” she thought. “ If he were to 
go languishing around as some of the fellows do, we should 
just die right off, all of us !” 

The dreaded dinner-bell rang out, and Mr. Cleaveland gath- 
ered up his photographs and followed Lilian to the house. 

“ Our table looks deserted,” said Mrs. Preble, glancing 
around at the empty seats. 

But Lilian thought no spot could look deserted where he 
was, and she wished only that two more chairs were vacant, — • 
her aunt’s and Minnie’s. 

At tea-time another place was empty, the one of all others 
which she wanted to see filled, and her heart sank within her 
as the meal passed without his step in the hall, and the moon 
rose upon her waiting alone in the garden. 

What had he been doing all the afternoon ? She heard him 
in his room until after four o’clock, and then he had gone out. 
She wished she had not said so much against walking in the 
sun the other day on her return from the useless expedition 
with Miss Hartwell. Perhaps he would have invited her to 
go to the light-house, or the fort, or somewhere. But he 
might have known that she would like to go, — that a ramble 
with him was quite a different thing from a walk with a girl. 
Men were sometimes so obtuse ! 

The moon, now almost at the full, rose in a cloudless sky, 
and shone resplendent over laud and sea. 


THE LADIES' PARTY AT “GRAYS." 


321 


Lilian paced the garden-path, absorbed in fruitless longing, 
until ten o’clock, and then, feeling sure that Mr. Cleaveland 
would not join her at so late an hour, she hurried into the 
house, struck suddenly by the idea that possibly he might be 
visiting her aunt. 

But no. Mrs. Preble lay quiet upon the lounge, and the 
lamp had not been lighted. She roused herself as Lilian 
entered. 

“ I suppose they are all so late on account of the moon,” 
she said. “ I hope nothing has happened to Laura’s boat or 
Sarah’s carriage.” 

“ Oh, there is no danger,” replied Lilian, carelessly, as she 
threw herself down in the arm-chair. 

“ Have you had a pleasant day ?” inquired Mrs. Preble, 
kindly, noticing the discontented tone of her voice. 

“ It was horribly dull, of course, with everybody gone,” 
grumbled Lilian, “ and that wretched little Minnie spoiled 
what comfort I might have had in the quiet of the garden. 
She is always hanging about and chattering when one wants 
to be alone.” 

“ Well, she will not trouble you much longer. The doctor 
says Miss Hartwell can begin to go out of doors to-morrow, 
and she has decided to join her mother next week. She 
hopes the chowder-party can come off before she leaves. She 
has never been to one. Have you seen her to-day ?” 

“ Yes, I went in after breakfast ; but it was before the 
doctor had seen her. So she is going next week,” said 
Lilian, in a more cheerful tone. 

“ Yes. She is to meet the others in Portland. I thought 
if you felt lonely you would come up here,” pursued Mrs. 
Preble. “ I took advantage of the opportunity to write a 
good, long letter to Mr. Preble. Post-cards are very well, 
but now and then there is more to be said than they will 
hold.” 

“ I’m sure I don’t see what you can find to write about in 
this place,” replied Lilian. 

“ Wait until you are married to the man you love, and you 
will find enough to say to him wherever he may be,” said 
Mrs. Preble, playfully. 

“ I suppose that makes the difference,” answered Lilian, as 
she imagined the breadth of the continent between her and 


322 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL. 


Mr. Cleaveland, while Mrs. Preble lay and wondered whether 
Horace Grinned would really make his appearance before the 
time for them all to go away, and whether Lilian would 
succeed in fixing his roving affections beyond fear of change. 

Soon the crash of wheels was heard upon the gravelled 
street. 

“ That must be Sarah,” said Mrs. Preble, as the sound 
suddenly ceased. “ I suppose Mr. Peering will take the horse 
to the livery-stable, so he won’t come up with her. I didn’t 
light the lamp, the moon was so bright.” 

Lilian gave but little heed to Sarah’s glowing description 
of her drive and the visit to Bucksport. She gazed out of 
the window upon the peaceful scene and wondered where 
under the moon Mr. Cleaveland might be straying. But 
the sound of Laura’s voice in the hall below aroused her 
instantly. 

“ Mercy ! she can’t be bringing anybody in so late as this,” 
she cried. 

“ Of course not,” answered Mrs. Preble, quietly. “ She is 
only bidding her friend good-night at the door.” 

“ At any rate, she keeps on talking all the way up-stairs,” 
retorted Lilian. She listened and heard good-nights ex- 
changed, and then a firm, manly tread passed the door, and 
Lilian knew that Laura and Mr. Cleaveland had met some- 
where on the way home. 

“ Oh, you are all here ! that is nice !” cried Laura, as she 
entered the room and saw the three faces dimly outlined 
before her. 

“ Yes, we are all here,” said Mrs. Preble. “ How late you 
are ! Did anything happen ?” 

“ No, indeed,” replied Laura, as she sat down on the lounge 
beside her mother and took her hand into her lap. “ We 
had a glorious time, that was all. And we waited for the 
moon. I must tell you all about it. Miss Mason’s brothers 
rowed us over. There were two boat-loads of us. I helped 
row part of the way. We didn’t hurry, it was so delightful 
on the water. As soon as we were landed, the boats went 
away. I must say it is rather a pleasant change not to have 
a man within sight or hearing, once in a while. We felt so 
free ! 

“ First, we took a walk, all but two ladies, who preferred to 


THE LADIES' PARTY AT “ GRAY 1 S” 323 


stay near the spring with the baskets. We went through the 
woods and climbed quite a steep ascent, and then looked down 
upon another part of the bay, almost shut in by hills, like a 
lake. It was so still and strange, it seemed almost as though 
we had just discovered it. Somehow, it made me think of the 
open Polar sea 1” 

“ I don’t wonder,” remarked Lilian. “ It is cold enough 
in this climate to be the North Pole.” 

“ Shut the window, if the air is too cool for you,” said 
Mrs. Preble. Lilian pulled down the sash with an impatient 
jerk, and Laura went on with her story : 

“ The country is beautiful over there. The sea winds in 
and out among the coves, and the hills are covered with fir- 
trees. We saw houses here and there in the distance, and 
cultivated fields. I should like to go all through that region. 

“ After we had sauntered about till we were tired, we went 
down to the shore and found the two ladies beginning to get 
dinner. They had made a fire and put the tea-kettle on to boil. 
The fire did not make much show, for it was right out in the 
sunshine. There is a fireplace built of brick and stones, 
which everybody uses at picnics, and the spring is close by. 
There are no trees around the spring, but we put up our um- 
brellas, and it was not at all too warm. As soon as the fire 
had burned down, we put potatoes and eggs into the hot ashes 
to bake. It was great fun. I took solid comfort in that fire. 

“ We made a long business of dinner, and talked and laughed 
and had a grand time. Afterwards we rested under the tree3 
awhile, and then we went down to the shore — the tide was 
out — and poked at the clams in the sand and gathered shells 
and sea-weed. After we had had enough of such sport, we sat 
in a group on the rocks and talked. I did not say much, for I 
wanted to hear them converse among themselves ; and it was 
very interesting. They were all bright, intelligent women. It 
is evident that people read a good deal in this quiet little vil- 
lage. I picked up bits of many a romance of real life in their 
mention of absent friends who used to join them in their 
annual picnic. Several of the ladies were very lively ; one in 
particular had an uncommonly witty way of expressing her- 
self. We laughed very often, and yet there was an air of 
pensiveness in all that was done and said. I seemed to be in 
a dream the whole day. I suppose I was pondering over the 


324 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL . 


destinies of my companions. They were all unmarried, and 
none of them were very young, and it made me sad to think 
of the silly, helpless girls who are all the time marrying off 
in more accessible parts of the world, while so many lovely, 
well-principled, self-reliant women are left here to grow old 
alone, without ever meeting the good men and true whose 
homes they might make so happy and so honored. It made 
me think of 4 The Lotos-Eaters.’ Setting marriage aside, — 
they don’t seem to be thinking about it, — their living in this 
lonely spot must tinge their character with a gentle melan- 
choly even when their circumstances are conducive to cheer- 
fulness. I was reminded of 4 The Pearl of Orr’s Island,’ 
where Mr. Sewell says of Mara, 4 Too much nerve here , too 
much solitude , too much pine-whispering and sea-dashing .’ 

44 And that is the way it has been with all these women from 
childhood up. Don’t you remember, I told you that first 
Sunday about a lady I saw in church who had 4 eyes that 
looked as though they could see visions' as Longfellow says ? 
Well, she was there to-day, and her sister, too, considerably 
younger than herself. And I never in all my life met with 
girls who so completely suggested the idea of purity of 
thought and exquisite refinement of feeling, combined with 
strength of character and unswerving uprightness of conduct, 
as those two sisters did ! You will wonder how I came to be 
so strongly impressed on such an occasion, and I wonder, too. 
But I know I am right. 

44 After sunset we began to watch for the boats. We knew 
they would come for us before dark. But we couldn’t see 
them, on account of the bend in the shore, until they were 
almost there. We could hear their oars a good while before 
they came in sight, and, when they did appear, lo and behold ! 
there was 4 The Battlesnake,’ full of gentlemen, and our two 
boats in tow behind ! They set up a cheer as soon as they 
saw us, and we cheered back again. They were all old friends 
of the ladies, — all but Mr. Cleaveland.” 

44 Pray, how did he happen to be of the party ? Did you 
know he was coming?” asked Lilian, while a sharp pang of 
jealous rage gnawed at her heart. 

44 No, of course I didn’t,” replied Laura. 44 He saw one of 
the*gentlemen down town in the afternoon, and they got up 
the expedition and invited him to go with them. Well, they 


THE LADIES' PARTY AT “GRAY'S” 


325 


came on shore, and said they knew we hadn’t had anything to 
eat the whole day and must be famished, and so they had 
brought us some supper. It was twilight by that time, and 
the moon wasn’t up They made a fire, and the whole scene 
was beautiful. They had brought several cans of oysters 
with them, and everything to cook with, and they insisted 
upon doing it all themselves. But we spread the table-cloth 
and got out what was left of our good things, and in a little 
while we had a delicious oyster-stew, and a great platter 
of fried oysters, and fresh coffee and chocolate, and we ate 
enough to last us a week, it seems to me ! It gives one a 
ferocious appetite to stay all day in the open air. The men 
went into the woods and picked up loose brush and piled the 
fire high, so that it lighted up the whole country, and we sat 
around till the moon was well up, and then we packed our 
things and got ready to start. We came back in the small 
boats, just as we went, and 4 The Rattlesnake’ kept near us.” 

44 Did you sing?” asked Lilian. 

44 Yes, on the water. They urged me to. I sang Gounod’s 
4 Serenade,’ and Schubert’s 4 Serenade,’ and Schumann’s 
4 Mondnacht.’ Mr. Cleaveland always wants that whenever 
I sing on a moonlight night.” 

44 Well, I don’t see but your 4 hen’ parties are just as de- 
pendent upon gentlemen’s attentions as any other,” said Lilian, 
scornfully. 44 I believe those ladies knew all the time that 4 The 
Rattlesnake’ was going to bring over a load !” 

44 No, they didn’t,” said Laura, stoutly. 44 They were as 
much surprised as I was. They have been over there year 
after year, and it never happened so before. But I am sure 
there was no harm in it. It made a brilliant ending to a 
charming day. I told you you didn’t know what you were 
losing. You would have done better to come with us.” 

44 Oh, I must learn to sing Schumann’s 4 Mondnacht’ before 
I can expect to be of any importance !” was Lilian’s sarcastic 
reply, as she rose, and, with a general, careless good-night, 
went off to bed. 

44 Dear me !” exclaimed Laura, after she was out of hearing, 
44 it isn’t my fault that she missed the fun. I urged her to 

go.” 

44 She is angry because Mr. Cleaveland went over there,” 
said Sarah. 44 She doesn’t mind about the rest.” 

28 


326 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL. 


“ Never mind: the grand chowder-party will set everything 
to rights,” replied Laura. “ They are going to have it day 
after to-morrow, if the weather stays good. I tell you now so 
that you and Mr. Deering need not get up another private 
excursion. And, mother, you must take double doses of china 
until the time comes. We shall not half enjoy it if you don’t 
go too.” 


CHAPTER XXXVIII. 

THE CHOWDER-PARTY. 

Nothing wakes up the population of Castine so thoroughly 
as a chowder-party. 

Not that everybody goes, but those also who stay at home 
know from experience how delightful such an excursion can be. 
They are familiar with all the preparations ; they sympathize 
with anxieties about the weather ; they help willingly in the 
hurry of the parting moments ; they watch with interest the 
progress of the vessel down the harbor, and all through the 
sunny day they live over again in retrospection the pleasure 
which their absent friends are enjoying upon the breezy water 
and in their chosen island retreat. 

And, for those who go, what recreation can be more inspirit- 
ing? There is the awakening to sunshine and blue sky, with 
the anticipation of a whole day’s free enjoyment of the open 
air ; then the early breakfast, followed by a busy furnishing of 
baskets of good things, the short interval of rest and waiting 
upon the door-steps until the expected cavalier appears to an- 
nounce that everything is ready, and then the merry exchange 
of farewells at home, and the merrier greetings with compan- 
ions on the way, and, finally, the assembling of the company 
upon the wharf, the gradual transfer of baskets and their 
owners to the ample deck of the schooner, the spreading of 
the sails, the gliding from the shore, the cheers from land and 
water, the floating away to a new world of a few acres in 
extent and a new life of a few hours’ duration ! 

All these preliminaries were fully appreciated by our party, 
who were ready in good season and waiting in the parlor for 


THE CHOWDER-PARTY. 


327 


the summons to join their entertainers. Laura, Lilian, and 
Sarah wore their travelling-suits, Lilian’s dress having been 
cleaned and repaired soon after the unlucky morning walk in 
pursuit of Mr. Cleaveland. Miss Hartwell made her appearance 
in a jaunty sailor-like costume of dark-blue serge, with ample 
blouse, kilted skirt, broad collar, and glazed hat, a gilded 
anchor being fastened coquettishly upon her left shoulder. 

“ That anchor looks wonderfully like the one Ned Sim- 
mons used to wear last year, when he was midshipman. I 
shouldn’t wonder if he gave it to her,” whispered Laura to 
her mother, Miss Hartwell being too busy talking to Mr. 
Cleaveland to notice what others might be saying. 

Lilian’s annoyance was with difficulty repressed. Her rival 
looked charmingly pretty, there was no denying it ; but how 
mean of her to get up that costume in secret, so as to out- 
shine them all ! Behold the reason of her staying in her room 
so much for the last two or three days, and the secret of her 
many mysterious errands to the stores ! What had she and 
Laura been thinking of, not to bring yachting-dresses? The 
idea of that little Chicago flirt being the only one of the 
company to have the wit to dress appropriately on this occa- 
sion, — probably the only chowder-party they should have a 
chance to attend ! 

“ And how conscious the girl is of her looks !” she thought. 
iC How she marched straight to Mr. Cleaveland the minute 
she came in, as much as to say, ‘ Don't I look too pretty for 
anything ?' The only comfort is, she will burn her face to a 
blister in that hat !” 

At last the expected deputation appeared, and the parlor 
was quickly vacated. Mrs. Turner, Lucindy, and Almiry 
came to the door to say good-by and to prophesy fine weather, 
and the neighbors were visible at the windows as the party 
went down the street. Miss Hartwell’s dress was evidently 
being commented on with admiration by all observers, and 
Lilian foresaw with dread that it would attract still more 
attention amidst appropriate surroundings on board ship. 

During the short walk Mr. Cleaveland kept beside Mrs. 
Preble and carried her shawl. Lilian had expected to be able 
to take the place at his other hand, but Miss Hartwell was 
too quick for her, and she sullenly fell back to join Laura 
and Sarah. It was plain that Miss Hartwell had made up her 


328 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL. 


mind to flourish as the belle of the occasion. She was to 
leave Castine by the next steamer, and she meant to go off* with 
colors flying. Moreover, she had by no means beeu daunted 
by the repulse she had received from Mr. Cleaveland a few 
days before. Indeed, the fact of their having had a private 
conversation seemed to give her a claim upon his intimacy 
henceforth. He had told her that she was beautiful ; he had 
promised to be her friend forever : that was enough to begin 
with ; possibly all the rest would follow ; if not, she would at 
least have the satisfaction of making the Castine people think 
he was her beau, and it would be an additional pleasure to 
make Miss Thorne jealous. 

Our party found the rest of the company assembled on the 
wharf, and, after many greetings and a few introductions had 
taken place, there was a general movement to go on board. 
The tide was out, and there was a long sloping gangway to be 
crossed. Mr. Cleaveland helped Mrs. Preble over and hastened 
to find a sheltered seat for her, which he proceeded to make 
more comfortable by spreading upon it some of the shawls he 
carried on his arm. The three girls followed, and seated them- 
selves near by, so as to be out of the way of the Castine people, 
who were busy stowing away baskets and giving directions to 
their friends on shore. Mr. Cleaveland sat down beside Mrs. 
Preble, and they all watched the lively scene with interest. 

Presently Miss Hartwell came skipping along the deck. 
She glanced at the group and perceived that there was a little 
vacant space beside Mr. Cleaveland. “ My place is by my 
dearest ,” she cried, and settled herself down into the corner. 
Mr. Cleaveland had turned to speak to Mrs. Preble, and Laura 
and Sarah were talking to each other in a low voice. Only 
Lilian heard, and, after giving the little beauty an annihilating 
glance, she began to torment herself by recalling everything 
she had noticed in the intercourse of the pair before her 
which could have given a shadow of warrant for such a mode 
of address. She could not remember any flattering words or 
tender actions on his side. The few frolics in which he had 
taken part had been entirely of Miss Hartwell’s creating, and 
he had soon let her know that romping was not to his taste. 
But who could tell how often she might have met him alone ? 
And perhaps he had acted very differently then. Such a girl 
was exactly the one to tempt men to be familiar. 


THE CHOWDER-PARTY. 


329 


Her lt dearest ’7 Even if it was all her boldness, it was 
possible she might carry her point by sheer force of outrageous 
behavior. Extraordinary men were likely to be caught by 
extraordinary means. 

Lilian was glad to perceive that Mr. Cleaveland was not 
bound by the spell of Miss Hartwell’s close vicinity, for so 
soon as the bustle forward had subsided and the vessel was 
fairly under way, he rose and sauntered down the deck to join 
one of his new acquaintances, by whom he was taken the 
rounds and duly presented to the ladies and gentlemen he had 
not met before. 

“ We must go among the others,” said Laura, a few minutes 
afterwards. “ If we keep together all the time in this corner, 
they will think we are trying to be exclusive.” 

“ Yes, you’d better go, all of you,” said her mother. “ They 
won’t mind my keeping still here. I would rather be quiet 
until I become accustomed to the motion and the look of 
things generally.” 

So the four young ladies mingled with the other groups, 
and were made acquainted on all sides. Laura was received 
as a friend, and Sarah was pretty well known to the habitues 
of the Sabbath-school and prayer-meeting; but Lilian and 
Miss Hartwell were strangers to most of the company, and 
their looks and ways were a source of agreeable occupation to 
the keen-sighted and reflective natives, who, not being in gen- 
eral overburdened with society, were able to give their whole 
minds to the contemplation of every new specimen of human 
nature presented to their study. 

Lilian’s haughty beauty and Miss Hartwell’s extreme love- 
liness were recognized with appreciation and enjoyed without 
envy, and more than one observer of correct eye and cultivated 
taste wished heartily that Lilian would speak more and smile 
oftener, so that her countenance might receive the needed 
lighting up, and that Miss Hartwell would stop talking and 
laughing, thereby allowing her exquisite features to assume a 
suitable Madonna-like delicacy and repose. But perfection 
was not to be attained in ehher case. Lilian’s brow grew 
darker and her cheek lost its rich color as she watched her 
butterfly rival hovering around Mr. Cleaveland, and Miss 
Hartwell chatted and giggled all the louder for the admiration 
she was quick to read in her neighbor’s eyes. 

28 * 


330 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL. 


For some time there had been a good deal of whispering 
and private consultation, and finally it came out that Sam 
Perkins, who was about to go into the coasting-trade in a 
vessel of his own, was wishing he could get a likeness of Miss 
Hartwell for the figure-head of his schooner, and was wonder- 
ing whether the young lady would allow a copy of her face 
and form to be used in that capacity, and whether Mr. Cleave- 
land could be prevailed upon to make a sketch which might 
serve as a model for the sculptor in Boston. 

The suggestion so modestly proffered soon grew into an 
event. Miss Hartwell had not the slightest objection to pose 
for the figure-head of a schooner, and Mr. Cleaveland con- 
sented readily to take her likeness. Fortunately, he had 
brought his pocket-case of drawing-materials, and everybody 
was ready to lend a hand for the accomplishment of the en- 
terprise. A seat was placed in the bow for the artist, and a 
piece of canvas spread above to keep off the sun. An ample 
space was cleared in the forward part of the deck where Miss 
Hartwell was to stand. Laura unbraided the girl’s hair and 
let it fall upon her shoulders so that the strong breeze might float 
it out behind her, and then they all moved out of sight for 
fear of making her laugh. 

By this time one of the party was nearly beside herself 
with jealous rage. It was too much to look at the little 
beauty standing there alone, with Mr. Cleaveland’s eyes gazing 
upon her and his hand striving to reproduce her charms, and, 
disgusted with everybody and everything, Lilian withdrew 
from the company and sat down on a bench near her aunt. 
She did not look at her nor speak to her ; but, after gazing 
out upon the hills for a few moments, she got up and walked 
back and forth restlessly, pausing now and then to lean over 
the side and look down into the deep, dark water. By and 
by her aunt called to her. 

u Stoop down a moment,” said Mrs. Preble, as Lilian stood 
silent and sullen before her. 

“ Wouldn’t it look better if you were to stay with the 
others?” she whispered. “ They may think it strange if you 
go off by yourself.” 

“ I don’t care what they think,” interrupted Lilian, defi- 
antly. 

“ There may be another interpretation which would not be 


THE CHOWDER-PARTY. 


331 


very agreeable to you,” continued Mrs. Preble. “ Those 
sailors think you are sea-sick. I heard the man at the helm 
say just now to the other, 1 There's one that's a cornin' down ; 
see how white she looks around the gills' ” 

Mrs. Preble stopped to laugh ; but Lilian would not even 
smile. She merely asked, — 

“ Is that all you wauted to say ?” 

“ Yes,” replied her aunt ; “ but do go back and enjoy your- 
self. Come, I’ll go with you, and then people will suppose 
you came to attend to me.” 

Everybody welcomed Mrs. Preble to the circle, and, in the 
bustle of making her comfortable, Lilian’s return was unno- 
ticed. So they sailed on for a time, Mr. Cleaveland working 
in silence, Miss Hartwell standing motionless, her hair floating 
in the wind, and the group -around the mast chatting in low 
tones as the vessel slowly passed the familiar landmarks and 
entered the wide bay. The sun began to beat down rather 
fiercely upon Miss Hartwell’s exposed head, causing her to 
work her features into a distressed scowl. 

“ Miss Preble,” called out Mr. Cleaveland, “ can’t you put 
a handkerchief or something white around Miss Hartwell’s 
face? That sailor-hat is no protection. I shall be done 
soon ; there is only the drapery to finish ; but she may get a 
headache, to say nothing of tan and freckles.” 

Laura rose at once and went to the rescue. Nobody had a 
handkerchief large enough for the purpose, but the ladies 
hunted up a long, thin towel from one of the baskets, and 
Laura shaped it into a hood around the girl’s face. 

“ She would make a capital nun !” cried Laura to Mr. 
Cleaveland, as she turned away. 

“ Just what I was thinking of,” he replied. “ After we 
get on shore, in the shade, we will arrange the towel around 
her forehead and chin and put something black over her 
head, and I will make a sketch, provided she is not too tired 
of posing as model. Come here and see how you like this.” 

He was glad that Laura should be the first to see the pic- 
ture. 

“ It is good ; it is excellent !” she cried. 

“ I can easily copy it in water-colors when I go back to the 
house,” he continued. 

Lilian watched her cousin as she stood at Mr. Cleaveland’s 


332 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL. 


side, looking over his shoulder at the drawing, and the fire of 
jealousy burned with increased fury in her tormented breast. 
But the exasperating scene was of short duration. Laura re* 
turned to her friends, and soon Mr. Cleaveland released Miss 
Hartwell, with many thanks for her patience, and the com- 
pany gathered round to examine the sketch. 

It was pronounced by all to be a striking likeness and a 
very graceful picture, and Mr. Sam Perkins glowed with 
pleasure as he imagined himself setting sail in his new 
schooner with that angel face to lead the way. 

“ Let’s see,” he cried ; “ I must name the vessel after you. 
What shall I call it ?” 

Mr. Cleaveland and Laura glanced at each other and smiled, 
remembering the girl’s contempt for her homely name, and 
Lilian, standing aside, rejoiced at the approaching discom- 
fiture of her rival. 

But she underrated the power of invention in that little 
head. With scarcely a shadow of hesitation the young lady 
turned to Mr. Perkins and said, “ You may call it the ‘ Jessie 
Hartwell,’ if you please.” 

“ The ‘ Jessie Hartwell,’ ” he repeated. “ That is a pretty 
name, and it will go first-rate through the trumpet, too.” 

It was evident that Mr. Sam Perkins was fast yielding to 
the remarkable charms of the Western belle. Those present 
who looked with favor upon his attachment to Margy Bemis 
were glad she was not present to witness his temporary defec- 
tion, while Laura, who had never forgiven his cruelty to the 
little terrier, rejoiced in the prospect of the heartaches in 
store for him after Miss Hartwell’s departure. 

Whatever his feelings may have been, the whole company 
seemed to conspire to pet and flatter the little beauty. The 
sailors grinned their admiration whenever she sauntered past 
them with her hat on the back of her head and her hands in 
her pockets ; the Castine beaux vied with each other in at- 
tendance upon her frequent promenades up and down the 
deck, in adjusting the glass for her inspection of distant 
points along the shore, in lowering deep-sea lines for her 
essays at cod-fishing, and the ladies looked on approvingly, 
being themselves assiduous in shielding her from the sun 
and iu devising means to supplement the deficiencies of her 
nautical head-gear. 


THE CHOWDER-PARTY. 


333 


At last it was announced that a sufficient number of fish 
had been caught for the chowder, and the vessel was headed 
for Holbrook’s Island, to the satisfaction of all the party, and 
especially to the relief of Lilian, who felt the confinement of 
the narrow deck an almost insupportable aggravation of her 
troubles. Once on shore, she could hide herself in the 
woods and give way to her grief without restraint. Mean- 
time, no one suspected the extent of her misery. Her rela- 
tives perceived that she was out of sorts, and knew the reason 
of her discontent, but they hoped she would soon recover her 
spirits now that Mr. Cleaveland’s particular association with 
Miss Hartwell was ended. The others, not understanding her 
so well, set her down for a proud, reserved person, whose in- 
difference did not imply any personal disrespect, and whose 
humors would better not be interfered with. They decided 
to be as polite and friendly as she would allow them to be, 
and for whatever might be lacking in. their attentions she 
would have only herself to blame. 

It was great fun landing in the dory, which had to make a 
good many trips before everybody and everything was safely 
deposited upon the beach. As soon as all was in order, the 
schooner anchored in deep water, and the dory drawn up be- 
yond the reach of the advancing tide, the gentlemen informed 
the ladies that there was nothiug for them to do but run 
about and amuse themselves, it being an established fact that 
no women, nor company of women, could make a chowder as 
it ought to be made. The ladies were not disposed to quarrel 
with an assumption which left them entirely at liberty, and 
so they broke into groups and roamed about in the welcome 
shade, attended by those of the geutlemen whose assistance 
was not needed in the preparation of the feast. 

Mrs. Preble found a pleasant resting-place under a beech- 
tree, where she could sit on the moss-covered roots and lean 
back against the clean trunk, with her head in the shadow 
and her feet in the sun, looking out the while upon the water 
and down upon the young men busy at their cooking. Mf. 
Cleaveland brought her shawl and parasol, and was about to 
join the others, when Miss Hartwell reminded him of his 
promise to sketch her as a nun, and he could do no less than 
offer to begin the work at once. Laura arranged the towel 
under his direction, and a lady of the company who was 


334 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL. 


dressed in mourning contributed a clinging black shawl of 
Canton crape, which answered perfectly for the head-drapery. 
Everything being ready, Laura left the group to join a walk- 
ing-party, inviting Lilian to go with her ; but nothing could 
tempt Lilian to stir from Mr. Cleaveland’s vicinity. When 
Laura came back, Mrs. Preble was still sitting under her tree ; 
but Mr. Cleaveland had made short work of the sketch, and 
he and the two girls were now down by the water, skipping 
stones, Lilian’s countenance brilliant with smiles, while Miss 
Hartwell’s face was hidden under the protecting shade of the 
white towel, again doing duty as a bonnet. 

Close by, the self elected cooks were busy over the fire, and 
the ladies were already spreading the table-cloths in the shade 
and carefully emptying the contents of the lunch-baskets. 
The young men had furnished the necessary crockery from 
the stores, and had also brought coffee and tea, and sugar and 
lemons and oranges. Bottles of ginger-beer and raspberry- 
vinegar stood cooling in a box of ice ; but no intoxicating 
liquors were to be seen, and if our young physician, fresh 
from European dinners, was of the private opinion that a glass 
of good wine would not be amiss after the hearty feast in 
preparation, he kept his thoughts to himself, and trusted to 
bracing air and innocent merriment to promote digestion and 
neutralize the counteracting effect of tea and cold water as 
accepted “ beverages.” 

What pen can fitly describe the delights of a Castine 
chowder-party on Holbrook’s Island ? The quiet loveliness 
of the scenery, the delicious odor of the steaming chowder, 
the appetizing look of the array of good things spread out upon 
the white table-cloths, the healthy hunger of the company, the 
friendly mirth which gives additional relish to the repast, — 
all this is to be enjoyed and remembered, but words fail to 
reproduce the pleasure. 

Dinner being at last ended, the dishes and eatables were 
packed away as quickly as possible, and then the ladies an- 
nounced that they were going over to the other side of the island 
to take their siesta , and the gentlemen said they would stay 
where they were and smoke their cigars, and afterwards a few 
of them would row Mr. Cleaveland around in the boat to see 
the slate-quarry. They would all meet in an hour or so. 

It was only a short distance across the island at the lower 


THE CHOWDER-PARTY . 


335 


end, and, the path leading through the woods all the way, 
even Mrs. Preble was not fatigued. She and Laura and a 
few others of the ladies lay down to sleep ; those who had not 
learned the art of waking up after a few minutes’ rest sat in 
the shade and worked off their drowsiness over knitting and 
embroidery, or leaned against a tree and dreamed waking 
dreams in harmony with the peaceful scene. 

One of the sleepers kept her position long after the others 
had joined the circle on the shore. 

“ She is tired,” said her sister. “ I was afraid to have her 
come, she has been feeling so weak lately ; but she couldn’t 
bear to be left behind.” 

And then followed anxious inquiries and grave looks, it being 
tacitly acknowledged by all present that the sleeping girl was 
doomed to an early death through that insidious disease which 
beautifies only to destroy. 

“Is it too late to save her?” asked Mrs. Preble of her 
nearest neighbor. “ She looks delicate, but she is not yet 
emaciated, and she has not coughed at all to-day.” 

“ Oh, they all go just so !” answered the lady, in a low 
voice. “She coughs dreadfully in the morning and at night, 
but sometimes she is pretty quiet through the day. She 
looks rather full in the face to a stranger, but to us she seems 
very much altered, and her body is nothing but skin and bone. 
Four of her family are already gone. Perhaps her sister may 
escape ; she has dark eyes, and takes after her father ; but 
there is no hope for poor Bertha !” 

Soon the gentlemen appeared, all but the rowing-party, and 
it was not long before their oars were heard around the point. 
The grinding of the boat upon the beach awoke the invalid ; 
she stirred and moaned ; her sister hastened to help her rise. 

The scene which followed was very painful : — a coughing- 
fit of several minutes’ duration, faintness, gasping for breath, 
friends trying in vain to relieve the sufferer, strangers stand- 
ing by wishing to show sympathy yet fearing to intrude, all 
present deeply impressed with the transientness of human joy, 
and fully conscious of the trouble and sorrow and separation 
which disturb or threaten every form of earthly happiness. 

At last the paroxysm was over, and the poor girl lay back 
against her sister’s shoulder to rest, while the company drew 
silently away and returned to their seats on the shore. 


336 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL. 


# 

But a shadow appeared to have fallen upon the sunny pros- 
pect. The light wind sighing in the pine-trees seemed to 
whisper of death and decay, and the waves driven by the 
rising tide dashed with a mournfully-hollow sound into the 
empty hull of a wrecked ship which for years had . been 
bleaching on the sands. 

Somebody told the story of that old-time disaster, and Mr. 
Cleaveland, with two or three of his friends, went to examine 
the skeleton vessel. 

Laura could not shake off her sadness at the thought of the 
young girl’s certain fate, and, after vainly endeavoring to share 
in the returning cheerfulness of the party, she whispered to 
her mother that she wanted to be by herself a few moments, 
and quietly withdrew, taking the path which led to the scene 
of the forenoon’s pleasure. It seemed like coming home to 
see the smouldering embers of the fire and the trampled grass 
where their dinner had been spread. 

She went down to the shore, and, dipping her hand into the 
laughing, gurgling water, tried to remember that the world was 
still beautiful and bright. Then she sat down under a tree, 
and allowed herself to be soothed by the rhythmic rush of the 
advancing tide. 

After a time she heard a peculiar plashing around a ledge 
at some distance from the shore, and, looking out, saw, to her 
great astonishment, two seals gliding up the rocks, their round 
heads moving cautiously about, and the water streaming from 
their sleek bodies. She kept perfectly still, and watched them 
gambolling over their slippery playground. 

A twig snapped in the woods behind her. Turning, she 
saw Mr. Cleaveland coming rapidly along the path. She arose, 
and held out her hand with a warning gesture. He stepped 
softly near, playfully catching the extended hand as he came 
to her side, and following her glance to the rocks outside. 

So they stood a moment hand in hand, looking intently at 
the seals. Just then a sound alarmed the wary animals, they 
lifted their heads, glanced towards the shore, and tumbled 
down under the water. 

“ What mournful faces they have !” exclaimed Laura, with- 
drawing her hand, with a vivid blush. “ I am sorry E ever 
bought a seal-skin cloak : I shall think of those poor creatures 
every time I put it on.” 


THE CHOWDER-PARTY. 


337 


“ I hope you will,” he replied, in a significant tone. 
“ Think of how we saw them together. We won’t say any- 
thing about it to the others. Let us keep this as our pleasant 
secret of a pleasant day.” 

44 Our 4 swan's nest among the reeds , ’ ” answered Laura, 
quickly, provoked at herself as soon as the words were spoken 
for having made such an allusion. 

“ Exactly !” he cried, in a happy voice ; “ only you won’t 
need to tell 4 him’ about it.” 

She walked on as though she had not heard, and rejoined 
the company. He stayed behind, making his appearance after 
a while from another quarter. 

Meantime,' Lilian’s discontent had returned with redoubled 
force. Her few miuutes’ enjoyment in skipping stones, and 
her satisfaction at having Mr. Cleavelaud beside her at dinner, 
were after all but a meagre portion of the happiness she had 
expected from this trip, and there was no prospect of anything 
better in store. He was ready to wander off with those men 
at the first word. Even during dinner he had talked almost 
as much to his neighbor on the other side as to her, aud now 
that this sick girl was the object of general attention, he would 
have neither eyes nor ears for anybody else. The doctor in 
him was sure to come out if anybody had an ache or a pain. 
Sick people ought to stay at home : it was abominably selfish 
to join a party of pleasure and spoil all the fun with such a 
dismal, church-yard cough. And then how provoking it was 
in him to give up the whole morning to sketching Miss Hart- 
well’s baby face ! He ought to see how she was flirting with 
the Castine beaux, half a dozen at a time. And he never 
winced when she told that lie about her name. 

These thoughts recurring over and over depressed Lilian’s 
spirits more and more. Mrs. Preble at last noticed her looks, 
and, fearing from past experience that she might soon break 
out into hysterical crying, went to her and said, — 

44 Come with me, Lilian. I want to walk a little, and Laura 
and Sarah are not here.” 

Lilian could not well refuse, and as soon as they had started 
she was rather glad of the ^change, for the path taken by her 
aunt lay in the direction in which Mr. Cleaveland had disap- 
peared. Perhaps they might meet him, and then she could 
have it all her own way. Possibly her aunt had proposed the 
p w 29 


338 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL. 


walk in order to bring them together, had seen how unhappy 
she was, and thought it would only be fair to let her enjoy 
Mr. Cleaveland’s society after his having been monopolized by 
Miss Hartwell so long. But they went on and on, and nobody 
came to interrupt their silent march. 

“ This path must lead to the other shore,” said Mrs. Preble. 
“ Yes, here we are. Now let us go and sit under my tree and 
have a quiet talk.” 

They little thought who had been there before them. 
Laura had just vanished into the thicket as they came to the 
open space, and a tell-tale shrub was only now raising itself 
from the pressure of Mr. Cleaveland’s foot, as he had turned 
to spring up the wooded bank before them. But now all was 
still. The seals had vanished, and the place had the lonely 
look which belongs to every “ banquet-hall deserted.” 

The two ladies seated themselves in the shade under the 
tree ; but the “ quiet talk” could not begin at once, for Lilian 
put her hands before her face and burst into a passion of tears. 
Mrs. Preble looked on in dismay a few moments, and then 
said, — 

“ For mercy’s sake, Lilian, don’t cry so ! If you should 
have hysterics, what should we do ? I didn’t bring my case, 
and Laura has the smelling-salts in her pocket. And I don’t 
know where the water is, or whether there was any left, and 
if I were to bathe your face in salt water it would make the 
skin red and rough. You must control yourself! It would 
be dreadfully mortifying to have any of these people see you 
in such a state ; and they are sharp enough : they would guess 
the reason in a minute. If I were you I would have more 
pride.” 

She paused, but Lilian’s sobs were as frequent and as strong 
as ever, and she went on : 

“ I should hesitate to speak about this matter if you showed 
any reserve yourself, but you seem to be willing that every- 
body should see how much you care for Mr. Cleaveland. And 
I confess I cannot understand it at all. Here you came with 
us this summer on purpose to meet Horace Grinnell, and 
until Mr. Cleaveland appeared you thought of nothing but 
him. How you can forget him so soon is a mystery to me. 
If he is coming at all he will be here very soon. He may 
walk in any day, and how will you act between them both ? 


THE CHOWDER-PARTY . 


339 


“ On the other hand, I must say I have never seen anything 
in Mr. Cleaveland’s conduct to warrant your laying claim to 
his attentions. And I have watched him very carefully, too, 
for your sake. He appears to me like a man who is either not 
disposed to fall in love at present, or who likes somebody some- 
where else. I shouldn’t wonder at all if he is engaged to some 
girl we never heard of.” 

This suggestion seemed to strike Lilian. She was not so 
far gone in her crying-fit as to be really unable to control her- 
self, and she commanded her voice sufficiently to answer, — 

u I don’t believe it.” 

“ Whether you believe it or not makes no difference, if it is 
true. But I wish you would tell me what possesses you to 
act so. Don’t you love Horace Grinnell any more?” 

“ No. That was all a mistake,” said Lilian, sullenly. 

“ I don’t think it was. An affection which has continued 
several years and withstood a countless number of flirtations on 
both sides must have a firm foundation. And Mr. Grinnell 
is something more than a mere fashionable man of the world. 
It is greatly to his credit that with all his temptations he is 
not dissipated in any way. As for his flirting propensities, 
you cannot reproach him on that score, for you are as fickle 
as he is. If I were you I would not commit myself to any- 
body else, nor suffer my feelings to run away with me, until I 
had seen him again.” 

“ I don’t need to see him. I know I don’t care for him,” 
grumbled Lilian, withdrawing her hands from her tear-stained 
face and gazing before her with heavy eyes which noticed 
nothing. 

“ Well, are you sure you love Mr. Cleaveland?” 

“ Yes.” 

“ How can you be sure ? You know very little about him. 
I have no doubt of his being an honorable man, but his tastes 
and ways are very different from yours. I don’t think you 
would agree at all if you really belonged to each other. I 
believe it is nothing in the world but his looks. He is a very 
handsome, distinguished-looking man, but looks have precious 
little to do with the happiness of married life. Suppose he 
were to be maimed or disfigured by some accident, do you 
think you would be as much attracted towards him as you are 
now ?” 


340 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL. 


“ Yes.” 

“ I don’t. I know it is his looks, by the way you act. It 
is lucky that he is a sensible man, otherwise I don’t know what 
might happen. Certainly it is only his self-restraint which 
keeps you from making yourself ridiculous. I have been so 
thankful that only a few strangers have come to 1 The Aca- 
dian’ this summer ! We, of course, shall always shield you 
in every possible way. And Miss Hartwell is such a little 
goose that she never notices anything outside of her own folly. 
But if the house were full of rational people I don’t know 
what I should do. I wonder whether you have any idea how 
your conduct appears to us, and how it must appear to him if 
he has any eyes in his head ! You are not so bold as Miss 
Hartwell, but you are even more silly. You seem to be under 
a spell from the time he comes in sight till he goes out of 
sight. You manoeuvre in the most transparent manner to be 
near him and to keep others away from him. You glance up 
into his eyes at every other word, — in short, you look so 
4 soft’ that it is really laughable. You go to work the wrong 
way to win him ; I can tell you that.” 

“ Perhaps I show my feelings more than he does before 
people,” replied Lilian, with some hesitation, “ but you cannot 
tell how he acts when we are alone.” 

“ If I thought he encouraged you in such nonsense I should 
certainly interfere to prevent your being together alone,” said 
Mrs. Preble, severely. “ For then there would be real dan- 
ger. You think you are old enough to take care of yourself, 
but a few years more or less make no difference with the re- 
sult in cases of this kind. And you are in such a state with 
regard to him that he could do anything he might choose with 
you. 

“ Did it ever occur to you, Lilian, that of the thousands of 
girls and women who are led astray, the majority sacrifice their 
reputation, not because they are worse than others of their sex, 
but because they suffer themselves to be led into circumstances 
where they lose their self-control, and then the temptation to 
obey the lower law of their nature rather than the higher 
proves too much for their strength, and so they 4 fall’ ? There 
is no mystery about it. Let a woman yield in any consider- 
able degree to the influence of the man she loves, and she is 
lost, just as sure as fate, if he choose that she shall be lost. 


THE CHOWDER-PARTY. 


341 


“ Thanks to Mr. Cleaveland’s character, I don’t suppose 
there is this extreme danger in your case ; but I tell you the 
truth about it, so that you may be more careful for yourself 
and more charitable towards others of your sex who have not 
had your safeguards. 

“ But you intimated that Mr. Cleaveland was more affec- 
tionate in his manner when you were alone with him. Is it 
possible that you allow familiarities which he would not show 
before us all ?” 

“ No, no. I did not mean that. He always behaves with 
propriety. I meant that I have more reason to think he likes 
me from what he says when we are alone.” 

“ Well, tell me some of the things he has said. Perhaps I 
can judge better than you as to their importance. Laura has 
often told me that his manner towards you all is nothing more 
than friendly, and I am inclined to think you are deceiving 
yourself.” 

“ Does Laura repeat our conversation ?” 

“ Yes. That is, in a general way. She naturally tells what 
has happened during her absence.” 

“ Has he ever talked to her about his mother ? Or about 
religion ? Or about the seal ring he wears?” 

“No. Not that I know of.” 

“ Well, he has to me.” 

“ Laura has not been alone with him so often as you have ; 
scarcely ever, in fact. But he might, speak to you about his 
mother, and about religion, and about his ring, without being 
in love with you. He might tell you a hundred things, and 
not mean anything especial. You know yourself how often 
men say quite particular things to girls, just to amuse them- 
selves, and to see how girls will take them.” 

“ Oh, I know that; but Mr. Cleaveland is not such a man. 
I can’t explain what I mean. There are thousands of little 
things which go to prove what I think, but I can’t remember 
them all.” 

“ Well, if he really likes you, why doesn’t he show his feel- 
ings before folks ? There is nothing to hinder. It would be 
more manly in him, and it would put you in a much more 
agreeable position.” 

“ I can’t tell. Perhaps he hasn’t quite made up his mind. . 
Maybe he is one of those secret people who don’t like to have 
29 * 


342 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL. 


the world know what is going on. And there is a great deal 
to hinder. We are very seldom alone.” 

“ You could be alone if he chose to declare himself. Until 
he does, you must take your chances. We can’t all run away 
the minute he comes along, and if you wish to do what is 
proper, you will not show a desire to be alone with him. If 
lie really wants you, he will seek you out. And, Lilian, don't 
betray your preference so plainly. You act as though you 
could not keep your hands off him, sometimes. And you give 
him such looks at the table. I have seen Lucindy watching 
you more than once. 

“ We ought to go back to the company,” she continued. 
“ Try to be more sociable the rest of the time, and they will 
forget everything they may have noticed before.” 

Lilian made no objection to the proposal. She trusted that 
enough had been said to bias her aunt in favor of her claims, 
and for the rest she must rely upon her own ingenuity and 
Mr. Cleaveland’s docility. Nor did she feel at all offended at 
her aunt’s plain speaking. Mrs. Preble was an exceedingly 
modest woman, and it was very seldom that she made remarks 
concerning the relations of the sexes. Lilian had always con- 
sidered her “ a perfect stick” in this regard ; it was therefore 
refreshing to hear her acknowledge the existence and the force 
of sexual attraction, and her wayward niece was disposed to 
take the confidential warning as a warrant for future indul- 
gence in dangerous intimacy. 

They had scarcely started on their return when they were 
met by the whole party coming in u Indian file” along the 
narrow path. 

“ Is anything the matter?” asked Mrs. Preble of the lady 
who headed the procession. 

“ Oh, no,” was the reply. “ But the breeze isn’t as strong 
as it was, and it will probably die away with the sun : so we 
all think it best to start for home while we can use the sails. 
It would be a dreadful job to row that great schooner all the 
way back to Castine.” 

Lilian was terribly disappointed. She had supposed they 
would return by moonlight, and had imagined on Mr. Cleave- 
land’s part a series of gratifying attentions which should en- 
tirely recompense her for her sufferings during the picnic. 
But to go back by broad daylight was quite another thing. 


DEPARTURE AND ARRIVAL. 


343 


And the sail homeward was in fact tedious in comparison 
with the outward-bound trip. Everybody was more or less 
tired, and, besides, there was anxiety as to the continuance of 
the wind, and sadness on account of the increased feebleness 
of poor Bertha Haynes. Even Miss Hartwell was unusually 
quiet, fears for her complexion being even more subduing than 
fatigue. Mr. Cleaveland and Laura were probably the happi- 
est of the party : he, solely and entirely because of the encour- 
agement he had seen, or fancied he had seen, in her manner 
during the little episode of the seals ; she, principally because 
of his revelation of feeling on that occasion, and partially also 
because of many other satisfactions of the day. She had 
wanted all summer to visit Holbrook’s Island, and to go there 
in such perfect weather and under such delightful circum- 
stances — her mother able to go, too — was a fulfilment of her 
wishes beyond what she had dared to hope for. Her last look 
as the vessel rounded the point was at the tree near the land- 
ing and the rocks where the seals had sported, and she grasped 
more closely the stem of the young fir she was carrying home 
to plant in the beloved garden of “ the Acadian,” and wished 
more fervently than ever that she could live in the woods and 
build her household fire in the open air. 


CHAPTER XXXIX. 

DEPARTURE AND ARRIVAL. 

The next day another and a larger crowd assembled on the 
wharf to witness Miss Hartwell’s departure. Her beautiful 
face had become familiar to the citizens, and the recent news 
that her portrait had been taken for the figure-head of Sain 
Perkins’s coaster had awakened the interest of the whole pop- 
ulation, the Perkins family in its numerous ramifications rep- 
resenting a goodly portion of the inhabitants of Castine and 
the region round about. 

Miss Hartwell came down to the wharf in good season, 
escorted by Mr. Cleaveland, accompanied by Minnie carrying 
the big doll, and followed by Mrs. Preble and the three girls. 


344 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL. 


The short interval of waiting for the steamer was passed in 
exchanging farewells and accepting bouquets from admirers. 
Sam Perkins was there, wearing his Sunday hat, his dark- 
blue neck-tie relieving his fiery hair and freckled face, his 
heart, it is to be feared, throbbing wildly under the swift 
glances of the Western belle, instead of beating a calm remem- 
brance of Margy Bemis’s gentle charms. His bouquet was 
the largest and most beautiful of all, and Miss Hartwell kept 
it in her hand, resigning the others to Mr. Cleaveland’s care 
until she should be safely settled on board the steamer. 

She was really sorry to part from Mr. Cleaveland, and she 
hoped to be able to entice him out West by and by. But 
she was conscious of having failed thus far in her experiments 
upon his affections, and, feeling that she was wasting time in 
Castine, she was glad now to be starting for “ fresh fields and 
pastures new.” 

Her regrets were further softened by the spectacle of a very 
elegant young man leaning over the railing of the steamer, 
with a light cloak depending gracefully from one shoulder. 
It was the same exquisite who had attracted Lilian’s attention 
early in the season, he being then outward bound. Now he 
was returning, and was to be Miss Hartwell’s fellow-passenger 
for several hours. He had already perceived her, and had 
moved forward with an air of satisfaction on seeing her cross 
the gangway. 

We may be sure that he soon made her acquaintance, and 
that she did not suffer for lack of polite attentions during the 
short voyage to Portland. 

In the excitement attending Miss Hartwell’s departure, a 
passenger had left the steamer unobserved and worked his 
way through the crowd to the open street, where he learned 
from a small boy the direction to the Acadian Hotel, and by 
the time our party returned was comfortably settled in the re- 
cently-vacated room, and busy with the ablutions and changes 
of toilet required at the end of a day’s journey. 

Lilian, delighted at having her rival out of the way, was 
more animated than usual during the homeward walk, and on 
arriving at the house insisted upon everybody going into-the 
garden, knowing all the time that the majority would refuse 
the invitation at that hour of the day. It happened as she 
had hoped it would. Mrs. Preble and Sarah excused them- 


DEPARTURE AND ARRIVAL. 345 

selves to go up-stairs, and Laura, to her great joy, went with 
them, promising to come down in a short time. 

Mr. Cleaveland was the only one left, and politeness de- 
manded that he should accompany the young lady, who tripped 
down the path in high good humor and seated herself in the 
arbor in anticipation of a long and pleasant chat, undisturbed 
by the coquetry of Miss Hartwell or by Minnie's teasing play- 
fulness. Their talk was concerning their recent companions, 
Lilian’s object being to ascertain whether the girl’s beauty had 
made a deep impression upon Mr. Cleaveland’s heart, and his 
to see how she would speak of one of her own sex in her ab- 
sence, to which was added a slight curiosity to know whether 
Miss Hartwell had betrayed her folly to this temporary confi- 
dante. 

Before long Laura came flying down the path, and appeared 
before them pale and excited. 

“ Oh, Lilian !” she cried, “ I want you. Mr. Grinncll is 
here !” 

Lilian was equal to the occasion. Besides, the news had 
really no interest for her. She looked at Laura roguishly and 
said, — 

“ Well, my dear, you needn’t have come after me in all tl^is^ 
haste. •; You can find enough to say to him, no doubt, and I* 
shall se‘e him by and by.” 

The tone implied more than the words. It seemed to say, 
“ You know that Mr. Grinnell has come here to see you, and 
I don’t want to interrupt your tete-d-tete.” 

Laura was so astonished that she had no words for a reply. 
Her mother had not told her , about the talk on Holbrook’s 
Island, and she had always supposed that in case of Horace 
Grinnell’s appearance Mr. Cleaveland would be at once ignored 
and forgotten. But this was not the time for explanation, 
and she merely said, — 

“Aren’t you coming?” 

“ No,” replied Lilian, carelessly. “ Give him my compli- 
ments, and tell him I am glad he has arrived at last, after 
making us wait all summer for him.” 

“ Us /” repeated Laura, involuntarily. 

“ Well, you, if you like it better 1” she answered, with a 
light laugh. 

Laura gave her an indignant glance and turned towards the 


346 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL. 


house. She believed that Lilian would follow her soon, and 
made excuses to that effect to the unexpected guest, but the 
supper-bell rang and still she had not come. They were 
obliged to go down without her, and not until after they were 
all seated and had begun the meal did the young lady and 
Mr. Cleaveland walk in. She met Mr. Grinnell with the 
ease of an old acquaintance, introducing him to Mr. Cleave- 
land with due politeness, after which they all sat down and 
ate their suppers, and questioned and pondered in their several 
minds. 

Mr. Deering’s sudden entrance was an agreeable surprise. 
The two other gentlemen moved down to give him his accus- 
tomed place next to Sarah, and his total ignorance of existing 
complications enabled him to pilot the whole company in 
safety through their embarrassment. 

After tea he proposed a walk to the fort, which was will- 
ingly agreed upon. Laura intended to have a little talk with 
Lilian while putting on her things ; but Lilian, having her 
hat and shawl with her, remained down-stairs. 

“ Sarah,” said Laura, “ you and I and Mr. Leering must 
make it as pleasant as possible for Mr. Grinnell. Lilian 
seems determined not to pay him any attention, and Mr. 
Cleaveland, of course, does not understand the circumstances. 
But now that he is here I shall be polite to him, if nobody 
else is !” 

As the two girls went down-stairs they saw Mr. Cleaveland 
and Lilian standing outside waiting, as though to head the 
procession. Mr. Grinnell and Mr. Deering were talking to- 
gether in the front door. So Mr. Grinnell fell to Laura’s 
share, and Mr. Deering was glad to be walking beside Sarah 
again. Mr. Grinnell was not particularly entertaining, being 
evidently surprised and displeased at Lilian’s conduct ; but 
Laura, forgetting what had formerly occurred between herself 
and her companion, did her best to amuse him, and, finding 
that she could not make him talk much about Mount Desert, 
talked industriously herself about Castine. It was very awk- 
. ward, and she felt more than ever annoyed at Lilian as she 
watched her gliding along very close to Mr. Cleaveland and 
glancing up into his face in the most affectionate manner, 
while talking in tones too low to be heard by the rest of the 
party. 


DEPARTURE AND ARRIVAL. 


347 


Arrived at the fort, they all seated themselves upon the 
north-west bastion, and the usual interchange of exclama- 
tions over the beauty of the scenery followed. Mr. Grin- 
nell, finding that Lilian would not notice his glances nor 
give him any opportunity for a private talk, was too much 
of a gentleman to disturb the pleasures of the company by 
any show of discontent, and joined readily in the general 
conversation. 

“ It is really a charming view,” he said. “ It wants only 
two things to make it perfect.” 

“ What two things ?” asked Mr. Deering. 

“ A ruined castle and a convent.” 

“ Oh, don’t speak of it !” cried Laura. “ This fort is as 
good as a castle, and I am thankful to be spared the sight of 
a convent. That school-house yonder is a much pleasanter 
object in my eyes.” 

“ Indeed !” he replied. “ For my part, I think it would 
be better for the future of America if all the girls were 
educated in convents.” 

“ Mercy ! You Ritualists are going ahead pretty fast ! If 
it would be better for girls to be educated in convents, it 
would be better for boys to be educated in monasteries.” 

“ I think it would. I spoke of girls because I was think- 
ing just then of the fickleness of women in general, and how 
their worldly education makes them what they are.” 

He spoke with a bitterness which several of the party 
understood, forgiving the lack of gallantry in his remark in 
consideration of the rebuke he intended to convey to the 
person whom it concerned. 

“ Do your reading and observation go to convince you 
that the women of Catholic nations are less fickle than our 
fair countrywomen ?” asked Mr. Cleaveland. “ It seems to 
me that the fault, granting it to exist, must be due to in- 
sufficient education ; and a convent is the very last place I 
should look to for improvement in that respect.” 

“ Whether we approve of convents or not, I suppose we 
are doomed to have plenty of them,” said Laura. “ It is 
astonishing to see how the Catholics are increasing in power 
in America.” 

“ Yes,” replied Mr. Cleaveland. “ It is plain that the 
great final struggle will be between Catholicism and Free 


348 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL. 


Thought. The Protestant churches will eventually be merged 
into one or the other of those two opposing parties.” 

There was silence for a few moments. Lilian idly pulled 
the grass and looked out to sea. Formerly, she would have 
taken Mr. Grinnell’s side, and there would have been a lively 
discussion. But now she did not like to differ from Mr. 
Cleaveland, and indeed her zeal for the Church had abated in 
a wonderful degree since the change in her affections. Mr. 
Grinnell, though an ardent Ritualist, was too much occupied 
with his personal feelings to be in the mood for entering 
into combat with a Free-Thinker, and neither Mr. Cleaveland 
nor Laura desired to push an argument which was not in 
accordance with the prevailing sentiment of the party. 

As for Mr. Leering, such talk was new to him. He had 
been brought up in a strictly Puritanical atmosphere, and was 
disposed to walk straight on in the old paths, his own sunny 
temper and upright disposition preserving him from too sharp 
contact with the stumbling-blocks of his creed. Sarah had 
heard many like remarks from Laura, and found it not amiss 
that Mr. Cleaveland (whom she had marked out as Laura’s 
future husband) should share her opinions. 

“ I hate churches,” began Laura, with her usual condensa- 
tion of expression. “ But it must be confessed that they 
make an agreeable feature in the landscape. They would look 
just as well, though, if they were libraries or art-galleries, 
as they will be some day. But here, in this quiet little 
village, I can see and am ready to acknowledge that religious 
worship has a good influence. It stands in the place of the 
theatre and the concert-hall and the lecture-room. In large 
cities, where those other means of amusement and improve- 
ment are to be found, the Church is either an undignified, 
insincere imitation of all three, or it is a dead letter to most 
of its members. The time has gone by when people really 
needed a clergyman to give them moral and intellectual in- 
struction. They read for themselves nowadays, and form 
their own conclusions. A temple for sacrifice, which is what 
the Catholic Church really is, is quite another thing. I sup- 
pose that will last so long as people imagine they can be made 
better and happier through superstitious practices.” ) 

The party returned home in the same order in which they 
had gone to the fort. Lilian walked more rapidly tliau 


DEPARTURE AND ARRIVAL. 


349 


usual, so as to avoid a meeting with Mr. Grinnell after their 
arrival at the house, and she and Mr. Cleaveland were safe in 
their respective chambers before Laura and her companion 
reached the door. 

“ I will say 4 good- night’ and 1 good-by’ here,” said Mr. 
Grinnell, holding out his hand. “ Please make my adieux to 
the others.” 

u Why, you are not going away so soon !” exclaimed Laura*. ' 
“ You have seen nothing of Castine but the fort !” 

“ I know. But I think I must leave early in the morning. 
And, as I shall be wandering about the town till the stage 
starts, I shall not be likely to see you again.” 

She understood that he did not wish to meet Lilian, and so 
forbore to urge him further. They shook hands in all friend- 
liness, and he turned down the street for a solitary ramble, 
while she went to her mother, to tell the story of the evening’s 
experience and wonder over Lilian’s sudden change of feeling 
and action. 

Meantime, Sarah and Mr. Peering lingered on the way, 
talking of many things, and most of the subject of the recent 
conversation. 

“ I don’t know but such people as Miss Preble and Mr. 
Cleaveland can get along and keep straight without any re- 
ligious principle,” he was saying, as they reached the door; 
“but I don’t think / could. My belief in God and Christ 
and heaven and hell and a judgment to come has saved me 
many a time from falling into sin. And, I don’t care how the 
world may change its opinions upon these subjects, my mind 
is fixed : I shall still say, ‘ As for me and my house, we will 
serve the Lord.’ ” 

Sarah pressed the hand which held hers, and he felt strength- 
ened and comforted by that mute token of sympathy. 

Laura rose earlier than usual the next morning, and attired 
herself as quickly as possible. “ I am going to talk to Lilian 
while she is dressing,” she said to her mother. “ I want to 
know what she means. And this is the only chance I have 
to catch her alone. As soon as breakfast is over she will 
begin the day’s chase after Mr. Cleaveland.” 

Laura listened at Lilian’s door, and, hearing her move about 
the room, tapped lightly, saying, in a low voice, “ It is only I : 
can I come in ?” 


30 


350 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL. 


Lilian drew the bolt and opened the door. She knew well 
the reason of this early call, and therefore did not receive her 
visitor so graciously as when they came together to gossip 
without a purpose. 

“ Don’t talk loud,” she whispered, nodding towards Mr. 
Cleaveland’s door. 

“ You needn’t be afraid,” replied Laura : “ I shall not for- 
get that he is there.” 

She paused a moment, and then continued : “ Horace Grin- 
ned bade me good-by last evening, and left his farewell for 
you and mother. He is going away early this morning.” 

“ Well, I’m sure I’m willing,” replied Lilian, with a toss 
of her head, though her cheek reddened under Laura’s gaze. 
“ My patience was worn out about him long ago. If he 
had wanted to come he would not have waited until the last 
minute.” 

“ How contrary you are !” exclaimed Laura. “ Here you 
have been heart-broken all summer because you were afraid 
you should not see him, or that he wouldn’t care for you if he 
did come ; and now here he is, and I never saw him act so 
much as though he liked you as he did yesterday, and you 
won’t look at him !” 

“ Well, you know the reason.” 

“ But it isn’t any reason. It is only a sudden fancy, and 
it will die out like all the other fancies you have had, and 
then you will expect to fall back upon Mr. Grinnell, and as 
likely as not he won’t want you by that time.” 

“ You are quite mistaken. I know what I am about, and 
this time my mind is quite made up.” 

“ But there are two minds to be made up in such cases, 
and it strikes me that the other mind is not so far along as 
yours is.” 

“ Perhaps you don’t understand that other mind so well as 
I do. Oh, Laura, help me this time, and I will love you as 
long as I live !” 

“ How can I help you ?” 

“ You can let me have chances to be with him, and you can 
speak a good word for me once in a while.” 

“ I cannot go into any manoeuvring for you or anybody 
else. If he wants to be with you alone he can find chances 
enough, and if I should say pretty things about you he would 


DEPARTURE AND ARRIVAL. 


351 


see through it in a minute. By the way, I don’t thank you 
for trying to make him think that Horace Grinnell came here 
to see me. Considering all things, it was about as mean a 
thing as you could do.” 

“ Oh, well, all stratagems are fair in love, you know.” 

“ I must say I think you are very foolish to set your affec- 
tions upon Mr. Cleaveland. He does not pay you any more 
attention than he does the rest of us ; not so much as he pays 
mother.” 

“ I know he is very cool and stately on ordinary occasions, 
but I have been with him alone sometimes, and then he was 
very different. Has he ever talked to you about his mother ?” 

“ No ; he has mentioned her incidentally several times.” 

“ Well, he has done more than that to me. He has told 
me a good deal about her. She was a Churchwoman, and 
was very anxious that he should believe in the same way. 
And did he ever show you his seal-ring ?” 

“ No.” 

“ Well, he showed it to me. His father had it made for 
him after his own, which was an heirloom. It has the crest 
of the family on it, — an old English family, you know.” 

“ Seems to me I would not brag about my family if my 
name were Cleaveland !” said Laura, with a laugh, and then, 
remembering Sarah’s warning, she stopped abruptly. 

But Lilian was so intent upon her own purpose that she 
did not notice Laura’s remark. “ You see that he has talked 
to me much more freely than he has to you,” she said. 
“ From the way he spoke, I think he meant me to under- 
stand that his wife would have a ring just like his.” 

“ Why didn’t he say so in plain English, then ? Oh, Lilian, 
you take too much for granted ! He says something quite 
commonplace, and you go to work and imagine all sorts of 
wonderful meanings, and probably he never thinks of his words 
again. I warn you that you will be left in the lurch if you 
get up a chase after him. And, pray, what becomes of your 
love for Horace Grinnell ? I do not understand how you can 
change so completely in a few weeks, just because a handsome 
stranger has come in sight. Do you remember our conversa- 
tion the day we walked to the graveyard ? — how you told me 
you could obey Mr. Grinnell as though you were his slave, 
and would willingly live in a hut with him in the desert ? 


352 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL . 


And that other day at the light-house, when you owned that 
you came here this summer for nothing else in the world than 
to see him ?” 

“ Yes, I remember,” said Lilian, impatiently. u All I can 
say is I didn’t understand myself then, and now I do. I feel 
that this one is the man to make me happy. There is only 
one drawback ” 

She paused and looked troubled, and the tears actually stood 
in her eyes. 

“ What is it ?” asked Laura, regarding her with surprise. 

“ It is about the children. To think that their father 
would not wish them to be brought up as Christians ’ 

Laura interrupted her with a peal of hearty laughter. 

“ Do hush !” exclaimed Lilian, in a suppressed tone. 

“ No, I must laugh,” replied Laura, wiping her eyes and 
beginning anew. “ It is too funny ! He doesn’t know what 
I am laughing at, and if it wakes him up it is no matter. 
Breakfast must be almost ready. But,” she added, in a 
serio-comic tone, “ I would advise you to think seriously about 
this disadvantage. With your professions you really ought 
not to think of marrying Mr. Cleaveland. You consider me 
very wicked, but I am pretty familiar with the Bible, and I 
remember it says, 1 Be ye not unequally yoked together with 
unbelievers .’ ” 

“ Ah, but it says also, 1 How knowest thou, 0, wife, whether 
thou shalt save thy husband ?’ ” rejoined Lilian, quickly. 

“ That is either a poor translation or a very weak sugges- 
tion,” returned Laura. “ At any rate, a straight-up-and-down 
prohibition is stronger than a dubious question. It is only 
another proof that you can make the Bible say anything you 
want it to. But to return to family matters. If you will 
allow me to do a little prophesying for you, I will foretell that 
very soon after you are out of the sphere of Mr. Cleaveland’s 
influence you will begin to grow indifferent towards him, and 
your old feeling for Horace Grinnell will come back. I only 
hope you haven’t estranged him too far by your conduct yes- 
terday. Perhaps it will only make him prize you more highly 
than ever. He may think you were piqued because he de- 
layed coming so long.” 

“ I understand your sudden championship of Horace Grin- 
nell. You want Mr. Cleaveland yourself,” said Lilian, abruptly. 


DEPARTURE AND ARRIVAL. 


353 


“ Even if that were true it would be of no use, unless he 
wants me,” replied Laura, quietly. “ If Mr. Cleaveland were 
in love with you, I would not say a word. But I think you 
are greatly mistaken in that idea, and are risking your chance 
with Mr. Grihnell, besides.” 

“ Wc shall see,” said Lilian, turning away to arrange her 
hair at the mirror. And Laura, still laughing to herself 
over Lilian’s premature parental anxieties, returned to her 
own room to share the joke with her mother, who was by no 
means lacking in a sense of the ridiculous, and who, her 
daughter thought, deserved to hear of all the fun that was 
going, by way of compensation for the frequent annoyances 
produced by Lilian's wilful ways. 

On going down to breakfast our friends were surprised to 
find Mr. Cleaveland about to start on another journey. His 
satchel and umbrella lay on a chair behind the door, just as 
Father Daly’s had done a few weeks previously. And Mr. 
Cleaveland was running away from the same fair enemy that 
had hastened the priest’s departure. 

The truth is, he had not thought of going until in his cogi- 
tations of the night before the plan had struck him as the 
best way of putting an end to mistaken calculations on the 
part of Miss Thorne, and the probable misunderstanding # of 
his intentions by her relatives. 

He saw that it would be difficult to avoid her almost con- 
stant companionship, and he felt convinced that Laura would 
not join her cousin in waylaying him upon every possible 
occasion ; his only safety, therefore, lay in immediate flight. 

“ He and Mr. Grinnell will travel together,” said Mrs. 
Preble, as the door closed after him. 

Laura looked at Lilian and wondered whether there would 
be any interchange of confidences between the young meu, but 
Lilian did not return the glance, being almost stupefied at this 
sudden overthrow of her plans, which left her with only the 
dreary consciousness that Castine was again the empty desert 
wherein she had dragged out so many tedious days before the 
coming of the enchanting prince who had wakened the whole 
region into life and light. 

The shock proved too great for her philosophy. She lost all 
interest in morning boat-rides and afternoon walks and even- 
ing lounges in the garden, and spent the greater part of the 

30 * 


x 


354 LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL. 

time in her own room, lolling upon the sofa and complaining 
of the heat. 

“ 1 should think she would have more pride than to change 
her habits so completely the moment Mr. Cleaveland is out 
of sight,” said Mrs. Preble to the two girls. “ Here for 
the last month she has nearly grown to that seat in the arbor, 
and now you can’t get her into the garden. People talk a great 
deal about ‘ modern improvements,’ but I must say I think 
girls were, as a general thing, prettier-behaved when I was 
young than they are nowadays. At any rate, when they had 
a beau they didn’t act so as to let the very hired girl? know 
what they were thinking about.” 


CHAPTER XL. 

AT THE LIGHT-HOUSE. 

“ Let us all go to the light-house to-morrow and spend the 
day,” cried Laura at the tea-table one evening. “We have 
stayed in this corner of the peninsula until it is getting to be 
the least bit in the world monotonous.” 

“ You girls can go. I would rather be quiet at home,” 
said Mrs. Preble. 

“ I don’t want to go,” said Lilian. “ I have some letters 
to write to-morrow. Besides, the woods don’t compensate for 
that long stretch of blazing hot common.” 

“ Then, Sally, you and I are the only ones left. Ho you 
feel like going ?” 

“ I should like it of all things,” was Sarah’s reply. 

“ We will take our work and books and lunch, and stay 
down there all day,” pursued Laura. “ I want to finish 
several sketches I have made at one time or another.” 

“ Lilian needn’t have feared the heat,” said Laura the next 
morning, as she and Sarah strolled along the narrow shore 
pith. “ The sun is bright, to be sure, but a parasol cures 
that, and there is a pleasant breeze.” 

“ Pooh !” sneered Sarah ; “ she would have gone if it 


AT THE LIGHT-HOUSE . 355 

had been as hot as Tophet, if Mr. Cleaveland had been here 
to go with us !” 

“ How long it seems since our first picnic at the light- 
house !” remarked Laura, after a few minutes’ silence. 

“ Yes, indeed !” replied Sarah. “ How much has happened 
since that time !” 

Both girls lost themselves in revery over the incidents of 
that happy afternoon. Laura was thinking of the walk along 
the shore, of the fire in the woods, of the initials on the 
tree, and Sarah, as they passed the tangled mass of vines and 
bushes, said to herself, “ Here is where Mr. Deering said I 
looked like a wild rose 1” and, a little farther on, “ Here is 
where he unfolded my shawl and put it on my shoulders in 
the moonlight !” 

The shadows of the light-house lay broad and cool upon 
the grass beside the path. 

“ Why not sit down here awhile ?” asked Laura. li There 
is a log up against the house, and nobody ever comes to the 
windows on this side. It is just the point for my sketch of 
the group of trees I am in want of.” 

So they sat down side by side upon the log, and Sarah 
hemmed a ruffle, while Laura worked at her drawing. 

After a short time Sarah broke the silence. 

“ I am afraid I did a foolish thing, after all, in taking this 
long walk to-day,” she said. 

“ Why ?’” asked Laura. 

“ Because I feel one of my headaches coming on. I might 
have known there was danger, I was so wakeful last night.” 

“ Can’t anything be done to stop it? How would it do to 
go to the spring and wet your head thoroughly ?” 

“ It wouldn’t make the least difference. The only thing is 
to give up to it. If I could lie down and go to sleep it would 
probably pass off.” 

“ Would you like to go home now, before it begins to ache 
hard ?” 

“ It has already begun. No, I don’t think I could walk 
just now.” 

“ Then I will go in and ask the light-house woman to let 
you lie down on the bed. She knows us pretty well, and I’m 
sure she won’t refuse.” 

Laura soon returned, success written upon her countenance. 


356 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL. 


“ She actually has a spare room,” she began, “ as neat 1 a 
little chamber on the wall’ as you could ask for. Her bed 
has a white spread, and the window is open, and the blinds 
are closed, and the room is dark and cool. And the best of 
it is, you can lie there as long as you like in perfect quiet. 
The man and his son are out in the bay, fishing. They took 
the dog with them. They won’t be back for hours, and the 
woman is just ready to start for the village, to be gone till 
noon. She was going to lock up the house, but she says if 
you want to stay here she will leave it open.” 

“ That is good news, I am sure ! I think I will go in right 
away and lie down. I shall get well all the sooner if I give 
up now.” 

“ Well, take your own time. You know we are in for an 
all day’s visit. Go to sleep if you can, and feel perfectly easy. 
I shall stay right here. This side of the house will be in the 
shade all the morning, and if I see a tramp coming I have 
only to run in and fasten the door. So we are really better 
off than we should be in the woods, especially as the people 
are going to be away.” 

Laura went with her cousin and saw her comfortable on the 
bed, with the door into the sitting-room left ajar, and a tea- 
bell on the stand beside her to ring if she should want 
anything. 

Then she went back to her log, and the footsteps of the 
keeper’s wife died away in the distance, and no sound dis- 
turbed the silence of the bright forenoon. Absorbed in her 
drawing, she sang softly to herself, and the time passed un- 
heeded. Sarah’s bell gave no summons, and Laura hoped 
the sufferer had found the cure for her malady in sleep. The 
shadow lessened towards the south, and Laura moved up 
to the corner of the house, where the dewy freshness was sure 
to remain. At last, as she leaned back against the wall to 
rest, something white fluttered above her shoulder and fell 
into her lap. It was a card. She turned it over and read 
the name, Arthur H. Cleaveland. Surprised and startled, she 
leaned forward and looked around the end of the house. 
There he was, his laughing eyes waiting to encounter hers in 
happy recognition. 

“ I hope it is not your ghost !” she exclaimed, as she rose 
to welcome him. 


AT THE LIGHT-HOUSE . 


357 


“ Not a bit of it !” he answered, grasping her hand in a 
warm, firm pressure. “ Although I could easily believe 
myself in heaven !” he added, throwing his shawl upon the 
grass and seating himself upon it. 

She paid no attention to this speech further than to wonder 
whether he often said such things to Lilian, in which case she 
would be sure to take the compliment in sober earnest. 

“ Are you alone here ?” he asked, remembering her solitary 
walk on the day of the concert. 

“ No. Sarah came with me, but her head began to ache, 
and she has gone into the house to lie down. I would like to 
call her ; she would be very glad to see you ; but she wants to 
go to sleep, if possible.” 

“ Oh, by all means let her sleep,” he said, eagerly. “ If I 
were Mr. Deering it might be worth the while to try a pleasant 
surprise by way of cure ; but under existing circumstances 
you’d better not disturb her. I hope your mother is well?” 

“ As well as usual, thank you. She preferred not to take 
so long a walk to-day ; and Lilian thought the common would 
be very hot, so she stayed at home too. Where did you 
come from, if I may ask ?” 

“ I sailed across from Brigadier’s Island with a fisherman 
just now,” he replied. “ I went first to Bangor and stayed a 
day, and since then I have been wandering about among the 
islands, from Portland to Machias. This morning I felt an 
irresistible desire to visit the Castine light-house, and so I 
found my way over here.” 

She toyed with the card in her hand. “ The H in your 
name ought to stand for ‘ Hilaire ,’ ” she said. 

“ Why ?” 

“ I don’t know. It just happened to come into my head. 
I suppose because Hilaire is a cheerful, inspiriting sort of 
name, and you are always cheerful.” 

“ I will adopt it forthwith. ‘ My sponsors in baptism’ 
called it Herbert , but they didn’t know what they were talk- 
ing about, and I was not consulted. Do you know what you 
remind me of every time you wear that dress?” he asked, 
after a pause, during which he had been regarding her, and 
she, conscious of his gaze, had kept her eyes fixed on the card. 

“ No. You said once I looked like ‘ Evangeline,’ ” she 
answered. ^ 


358 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL. 


u Yes. That was on a special occasion, when the woods and 
the fire and all the surroundings served to recall that story. 
But what I generally think of is a part of Ben Jonson’s 
quaint little poem : i 


f Give me a look, give me a face, 

That makes simplicity a grace; 

Robes loosely flowing, hair as free ; 

Such sweet neglect more taketh me 
Than all th’ adulteries of art; 

They strike mine eyes, but not my heart/ 


It will not be long now before we shall all be scattered,” he 
continued. “ It makes me lonesome to think of it.” 

“ So it does me,” she answered. u I have become very 
much attached to Castine, — it is so unlike every other place 
in the world, and so charming in itself!” 

Her eyes rested with loving admiration upon the scene 
before her, and her companion only wished he could detect 
half so much approbation in her glance when it fell upon 
himself. 

“ Where do you suppose we shall all be ten years hence ?” 
he asked. 

“ Ten years ! That is a solemn question ! My cousin Sarah 
is the only one of us for whom we can safely prophesy. I 
hope ten years from now we shall find her happy and pros- 
perous on yonder shining shore,” she replied, looking towards 
Belfast. 

“ I hope we shall,” he answered, significantly, while a mis- 
chievous smile hovered around his mouth. 

“ You will be a famous artist by that time,” she continued. 

“ I trust you are a true prophet. What is going to become 
of your cousin, Miss Thorne?” 

“ I don’t know,” she answered, hesitatingly. 

“ Perhaps Mr. Grinnell may be able to solve that problem,” 
he suggested. 

She looked at him in surprise. “ Then he saw through 
that performance,” she said to herself. And he thought, 
“ She doesn’t care a straw for him.” So he tried another 
tack. 

I wonder whether you will have become an English 
‘ Lady' or an Italian Countess by that time.” 


AT THE LIGHT-HOUSE. 


359 


“ There is not the least danger of my becoming either/’ 
she answered, scornfully. “ What can have put such absurd 
ideas into your head ?” she continued, instantly recognizing 
Lilian’s breach of faith in these allusions. 

He did not reply, and she said, after a pause, “ I expect to 
remain as I am. Very likely I shall come up here about that 
time and spend the summer. I shall then be old enough and 
sad enough to appreciate the mournful beauty of this region 
even more than I do now.” 

“ But why do you foretell for yourself so sober a destiny ?” 

“ I don’t know. I have always said that I should be an 
old maid ; and the longer I live and the more I see of life, the 
stronger is my resolution never to be married.” 

“ Is it because you see so much unhappiness among mar- 
ried people?” 

“ Yes ; what I call unhappiness. Perhaps they don’t con- 
sider it so bad as that.” 

“ But you certainly have an encouraging example in your 
own parents. One of the first things I noticed and admired 
in your mother was her evident attachment to her absent 
husband.” 

“ Yes, that is true. My father is one of the best men that 
ever lived, and he and mother are devoted to each other. My 
brother, too, is happy in his marriage. But that is only an 
additional reason for my being afraid to try my chance. I 
have no right to suppose the Preble family so particularly fa- 
vored of heaven that we should each and all be exempt from 
the common destiny of the race in this respect. The doom is 
probably reserved for me, just because I should feel it most 
heavily, on account of having dreaded it beforehand. And I 
shall revenge myself on fate by negative resistance, — by keep- 
ing out of the scrape altdgether.” 

“ Don’t you think you magnify the danger ? Surely, with 
such parents as yours, and by the aid of your own good sense, 
you might avoid any fatal mistake in matrimony.” 

“ According to my observation, good sense and wise pre- 
caution have very little to do with the matter. I know one 
woman whose life has been wrecked in the most dreadful 
manner through her having married a rascal. And yet no- 
body dreamed he was so bad ; and her mother is one of the 
keenest-witted persons I ever knew. The only safe way is to 


360 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN OIRL. 


be thoroughly acquainted beforehand, and that isn’t always 
possible. Perhaps it would lead to mutual disenchantment 
all the same, only the discovery would be made in season. I 
am sure nothing would induce me to marry any one of the 
young men I know intimately through my friendship with 
their sisters.” 

“ Why not ? What is it you dislike in those young men ? 
What must a man be and do to win your regard ?” 

“ He must be very different from the generality of young 
men I have met. The rich ones are too lazy and too effemi- 
nate, and the poor ones are not sufficiently refined in their 
manners. I never will marry a man whose morals are not 
good, — nor a man who smokes. So you will own that my 
choice is rather limited.” 

“ But there are men whose lives are pure and who do not 
use tobacco.” 

“ Yes, I presume there are. But perhaps I should not like 
other things about them, and perhaps they would not like me 
at all. My friends often tell me that I shall ‘ go through the 
woods and pick up a crooked stick at last !’ ” 

“ Like this,” said Mr. Cleavelaud, handing her a bit of 
twisted root with which he had been playing. 

“ Yes. This is a good-looking one, at any rate, — much 
handsomer than most of the straight sticks,” she answered, 
gayly, carefully examining the rich color of the weather- 
stained wood and the graceful curves of the tapering spiral. 
Then she let the stick fall to the ground, and Mr. Cleaveland, 
unobserved by her, soon possessed himself of it and hid it 
away in his breast-pocket. 

“The truth is,” said Laura, “ it is not only the difficulty of 
making a wise choice in the first place that frightens me : it 
is the danger of a change of feeling after marriage. I have 
known a good many couples who seemed well enough satisfied 
with each other for several years, and after that they grew 
indifferent and their romance seemed to have all died out, and 
they either consoled themselves with other people, or they 
didn’t console themselves at all. 

“ Now, I couldn’t bear that. I should want to be loved always 
just as much as at the beginning.” 

“Would that be .so very hard?” he asked, with an ex- 
pressive glance. 


AT THE LIGHT-ROUSE . 361 

She looked frankly at him, and replied, “ It might be. If 
I were to marry a man whose disposition did not harmonize 
with mine, it probably would be. That is where the danger 
lies. And how is any one to know ?” She paused a moment, 
and then continued : u It seems to me sometimes as though we 
were approaching a great crisis in social morals. Certainly, 
if the world keeps on long in the direction it is now taking, 
everything will go to ruin ! Nowadays the majority of young 
men and women openly acknowledge that they will marry only 
for money. And such marriages are almost sure to be unhappy. 
I often wonder that clergymen can have the face to go through 
with the ceremony at fashionable weddings when the circum- 
stances are notoriously an outrage upon all sacredness of 
feeling ! And even in cases where inclination has directed 
the choice, how many things combine to weaken the tie as years 
go on. Such disheartening revelations of temper are gradually 
made ! And tastes and opinions develop so differently ! For 
years, ever since I was old enough to think seriously, I have 
been watching the married people of my acquaintance, and 
the result is appalling ! I have known of some awful trage- 
dies, — cases where there was nothing for the parties to do but 
separate. And I have wondered whether, after all, the shock 
and the scandal were so bad for the character, as is the going 
on in a life of petty contention or loveless indifference, such as 
is led by a large proportion of respectable couples. I know 
of one woman who did not speak to her husband for several 
years. They lived in the same house and ate at the same 
table, and both of them talked to the children, but never to 
each other. And I know of other couples who quarrel and 
make up, and quarrel and make up, year in and year out. 
And I know of wives who are worried and hindered all the 
time because their husbands will not give them money enough 
for their necessary expenses, and others whose husbands en- 
courage them in extravagance and then turn upon them with 
reproaches when affairs are less prosperous. I know women 
who spoil the happiness of their homes by constant peevish- 
ness, and husbands who are a terror to their wives on account 
of their violent tempers, their coarse rages. I know fathers 
who complain that their wives are ruining the children by 
over-indulgence, and mothers who suffer* agony because their 
husbands are cruelly severe in punishing the little ones. 

Q 31 


362 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL. 


u And then the flirting ! — oh, the flirting that is so common 
in married life ! That is the worst of all. And it is getting 
worse all the time 1” 

“ But there are people enough who do not flirt.” 

“ Yes, that is true. But the thing is become so common 
that the most innocent friendliness on the part of a married 
man or woman is looked upon with suspicion. I know mar- 
ried men concerning whom the first question is, 4 Whom is 
he flirting with now V and married women the mere mention 
of whose name suggests, 4 Whom has she in tow at present V 
And many young ladies are just as ready to sentimentalize 
with a married man as with a single one, and many married 
men are quite ready to meet them half-way. And couples 
who are devoted to each other do not half the time get credit 
for their fidelity. 

44 I know one man and woman who are my ideal of a wedded 
pair. They have no children ; but in their case that is no draw- 
back to their happiness. They are and always will be lovers, 
and lovers do not need any society but their own. Besides, 
they have work to do, literary work, and quiet is necessary 
for that. People who know them well always speak of them 
together and never speak of them apart. The impression 
they leave upon every one is that of a perfectly suited, per- 
fectly happy pair. It does me good to look at them. To me 
there is a peculiar sacredness in their union. And yet I do 
not doubt that people in general talk about them as they do 
about everybody else, and wonder whether they like each 
other, and whether he is tired of her, and whether she is 
jealous when he makes himself agreeable to other women in 
society. 

44 Let a married man be very handsome, or rich, or talented, 
or distinguished in any way, and almost all the women of his 
acquaintance will be wondering what made him marry his 
wife. There isn’t a chit of fifteen but will fancy she could 
have made him happier, and they will all, young and old, try 
their utmost to give him consolation for his supposed mistake 
in matrimony. 

44 It seems to me that the marriage-tie is losing its power as 
a social safeguard. The flirtations which society countenances 
are a proof of this, a much stronger proof than is the frequency 
of divorce. In many cases, persons resort to divorce because 


AT THE LIGHT-HOUSE. 


363 


marriage is so sacred in their eyes that they cannot endure its 
profanation ; but it is quite a different thing to act as though 
marriage did not exist. Mother says that in her young days 
not only was it very rare for married persons to separate, but, 
whatever complications may have existed earlier, marriage 
put an end to them all. He is married ; she is married , — 
that was enough to break off all former love-affairs, and also 
to prevent any new attachment. 

44 But just see the difference now. How many women, and 
men too, marry for money, and then cherish secretly the sen- 
timent which they have pretended to sacrifice ! And how 
many, married and single, rush around in society bent upon 
pleasure at whatever cost of honor ! 

44 In these matters I am often reminded of father’s theory 
about politics. He says it never worries him to hear old men 
predict the downfall of the republic or lament that we have 
not 4 a strong government,’ but he trembles when young men 
say that the United States will become an empire before long. 
He says the prophets of every age are the young people. And 
so I think the conduct of young people shows what is the real 
standard of public opinion respecting marriage.” 

44 Did you ever read 4 Barfiissele’ ?” he asked, after a pause. 

44 Yes, indeed ; I know it almost by heart,” she replied. 

44 Then you remember Johannes s conversation with his 
mother when he was starting off after a wife, and his happy 
surprise on finding that 4 Barfussele’ possessed the good traits 
his mother had advised him to look for, and was free from 
the faults she had warned him against.” 

He said no more, and Laura knew he meant her to under- 
stand that his character was able to bear her tests. 

44 Long ago,” resumed Laura, 44 1 read a poem which has 
haunted me ever since. I believe the title was 4 The Lady of 
Garaye.’ It was about a noble young couple in France in the 
old times. They were blessed with everything to make life 
attractive ; but very soon after their marriage, while they were 
riding one day, the lady was thrown from her horse down a 
precipice and nearly killed. She lived many years as a help- 
less invalid, and her husband loved her as tenderly as ever, 
and they renounced the world, and built chapels, and founded 
hospitals, and did good all their days. 

44 1 love to think of that pair, — she so afflicted, and he 


364 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL. 


sharing her sufferings through sympathy ; both of them faith- 
ful and tender, and so devoted to each other that they had no 
need of other society. Perhaps the story is not true ; per- 
haps it is greatly exaggerated ; but at least it is refreshing to 
read and think about in contrast to what one sees and hears in 
real life. For that matter, I did once know a case something 
like it. Perhaps the two might be taken as romance versus 
reality. The lady was young and beautiful and rich. She 
became bedridden very soon after her marriage, and lived in 
that condition more than ten years. She was taken home to 
her mother, and her husband continued his business in an- 
other town. He visited her occasionally, and sent her beau- 
tiful presents, and surrounded her with every comfort and 
luxury to make her sufferings more endurable. But people 
said he loved another woman all the time ; only he wouldn’t 
hurt his wife’s feelings by separating from her, and so affairs 
were kept secret until her death left him free. That was fact ; 
but I never think of it when I can help it. I prefer the other 
story, even though it be fancy.” 

She leaned back against the wall and looked far out over 
the sunny sea. 

“ Only think,” she said, “ of there being nothing but that 
water between us and France ! It is the nearest land on the 
other side.” 

“You needn’t go so far as France for examples of con- 
stancy,” he replied, quickly. u Suppose, instead of allowing 
yourself to be warned against marriage by the weak and dis- 
honorable actions of some persons you have known, you should 
take comfort in the many examples of rectitude and faithful- 
ness which undoubtedly still exist in this wicked world. How 
many men and women in every generation have lived single 
because they were true to a lost love ! How many wedded 
couples are as devoted to each other in this prosaic age as 
they ever were in the times which seem to us so full of 
romance merely because they are so far back in the past ! 
And what does it matter though fidelity be unrecognized or 
even slandered by the world, so long as two hearts know that 
they can trust each other?” 

A bell tinkled. “ Sarah wants me,” said Laura, starting 
up. “ You will excuse me for going ?” 

“ And you will excuse me for going,” he replied, springing 


AT THE LIGHTHOUSE. 3bo 

to his feet and swinging his shawl over his shoulder. “ Good- 
by,” he added, holding out his hand. 

u Won’t you stay and go back with us?” she asked. “ We 
will give you part of our lunch.” 

He shook his head. “ I haven’t been here,” he said. “ I 
have had a pleasant dream, that is all ; and when I wake up, 
I shall be in Brigadier’s Island.” 

She gave him her hand in farewell, and he walked rapidly 
away, while she turned towards the door of the light-house, 
resolved not to mention the visit, since his parting words 
seemed to imply a wish that only they two should know about 
it. Sarah’s headache was cured by the timely sleep, and the 
programme of the day’s pleasure was carried out, but it was all 
very different from what Laura had anticipated. The morn- 
ing’s secret gave new meaning to the sights and sounds she 
loved so well, and, whether working diligently at her drawing 
or rambling through the cool woods or listening to Sarah’s 
modest expectations of future happiness, her spirit was dis- 
turbed by a sweet unrest which she could not but acknowl- 
edge was more satisfying than her habitual calm. She felt a 
bashful insecurity on lying down to sleep lest the welcome in- 
truder might again appear, and when she awoke the sighing 
of the wind in the trees above her head seemed to be repeat- 
ing his parting words : 

“ What does it matter though fidelity he unrecognized or 
even slandered by the world, so long as two hearts know that 
they can trust each other ?” 


31 * 


366 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL. 


CHAPTER XLI. 

PARTING. 

Nearly a week later a telegram from Mr. Preble announced 
that he should be in Boston within ten days, and our party 
began to make preparations for their speedy departure. 

“ We must go by the next boat,” said Mrs. Preble. “ It 
is too bad about Mr. Peering, Sarah. But I suppose he could 
not leave his business in Eastport, even if you should tele- 
graph. However, he will follow us soon. And I am sorry 
we are not likely to see Mr. Cleaveland to bid him ‘ good-by.’ 
I will leave a note with our address, so that he can call upon 
us when he comes our way.” 

Lilian was in despair. She could not endure to think of 
leaving the Castine she had so long despised. It was now the 
dearest spot on earth to her, because it was the only one where 
she had been with him. If she could have made an excuse 
for staying behind, she would have done so, but it was impos- 
sible. Had she cultivated Mrs. Bradley’s acquaintance she 
could easily have obtained an invitation to visit her, but she 
had ignored that lady’s existence since Mr. Cleaveland’s ar- 
rival, and now it was too late to pretend to be friendly. 

It was with a heavy heart that Lilian repacked the un- 
opened boxes of china, the neglected German books, and the 
unsuccessful chess-board in her mammoth trunk, and laid 
away the artistic ornaments which had adorned her short- 
lived oratory. 

How long ago and far away all these things seemed at 
present! How little she cared for the pursuits which had 
filled her life before this summer’s experience, and how much 
she dreaded returning to the round of duties and pleasures 
awaiting her at home in New York ! 

Meantime, Laura and Sarah made short work of their 
packing, that they might be free to wander about the little 
peninsula, bestowing their mute farewells upon the many ob- 
jects endeared to them forever through association with the 
pleasantest season they had ever spent. 


PARTING. 


367 


Nor were their agreeable companions of the concert, the 
prayer-meeting, and the chowder-party forgotten. Visits were 
duly paid, and many tokens of mutual good will exchanged. 

Alice Meadows sent Laura a beautiful box of birch bark 
(taken from a tree at the light-house), the cover and sides 
adorned with exquisite little sketches of Castine scenery ; and 
when Laura went to bid the senior deacon and his wife good- 
by, Mrs. Adams cut for her the one lovely rose blossoming 
upon a plant which had adorned the homestead for more than 
thirty years. 

“ Oh, mother, if we could only live here forever !” cried 
Laura, as they were enjoying together the peaceful quiet of 
the garden on the evening before the day appointed for their 
departure. 

The next morning brought another telegram. Mr. Preble 
was detained by business ; could not return for two weeks or 
more ; would come to Castine for them. 

“ Oh, good !” exclaimed Lilian, as Mrs. Preble read out the 
reprieve. Mr. Cleaveland would surely come back within the 
two weeks, and therefore Lilian shared in the general rejoicings 
over the extension of their stay. 

“ I am glad, though, that we went around and bade good-by 
to everything,” said Laura to Sarah, “ for now we shall see 
the places again, and when we do come to go away it will not 
seem so much like losing them.” 

Saturday’s stage brought Mr. Cleaveland, and Monday Mr. 
Peering was to return. The old times seemed to be coming 
back. There would be a new moon on Wednesday. It was 
still summer in Castine. The golden-rod was not yet in blos- 
som, and the September gales had not begun to blow. 

Saturday evening, as the party stood around the front door 
after supper, an express messenger came up with a small parcel 
addressed to “ Miss Laura Preble.” 

“ What can it be ?” she cried, as she turned to go into the 
house. 

“ Why don’t you open it here ?” asked Lilian. “ You 
might as well let us have the benefit of all that is going on. 
Mr. Cleaveland will lend his knife to cut the string.” 

The knife was produced, and the parcel opened. Inside was 
a small case, with “ Laura ” engraved upon the lid. The 
wonder increased. 


368 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL. 


Laura unclasped the case, and there on a bed of blue velvet 
lay a shawl-pin in the shape of a walking-stick, — “ a crooked 
stick ,” — an irregular spiral root of dark wood, exquisitely 
polished, with a heavy gold heading, upon which was carved 
the name “ Hilaire .” 

She blushed deeply as she lifted the ornament from its 
cushion and recognized the wood and the name. 

“ Do let us see,” cried the others. 

“ What beautiful workmanship !” “ What a peculiar idea !” 
“ Where did it come from ?” “ Who can have sent it to you ?” 
“ What does it mean ?” 

“ I will leave you to guess,” said Laura, taking the pin from 
Mr. Cleaveland, who had been the last to examine it, and 
going into the house with her treasure. 

Mrs. Preble and Sarah followed to put on their things for 
a walk, and Lilian was left alone with Mr. Cleaveland. 

“ I am sure we have discovered the favored one at last,” 
she said, eagerly. “ Did you notice how she blushed when 
she opened the box ?” 

“ I don’t believe you think so,” he answered, angry with 
her for her treachery, and yet grateful for her unconscious 
prophecy. 

“Why?” 

“ Because, if you did, you wouldn’t say so to a comparative 
stranger.” 

The implied rebuke was thrown away upon Lilian. She 
noticed only that he spoke of himself as a comparative stran- 
ger, to Laura, as she chose to imagine, and her heart danced 
within her during the sunset walk. 

That night, after they had all gone to their rooms, Lilian 
heard an unusual sound on the stairs, and, looking out, saw the 
washerwoman going down the passage towards Mr. Cleave- 
land’s room. She listened at the door between the chambers, 
and presently heard him say, — 

“I want the things back by Wednesday evening without 
fail, for I expect to leave by the boat on Thursday.” 

The woman promised to be punctual, and then Lilian heard 
her go down-stairs, hitting her basket against the railing, as 
she had done in coming up. 

Lilian lay awake a long time, thinking over the news she 
had just heard. 


PARTING. 


369 


The associations of Castine were, after all, to be soon broken 
up. And, come what would, she was determined to go away 
when Mr. Cleaveland did. Only, she must announce her plan 
immediately, so that her relatives should never find out that 
his departure had anything to do with it. 

Fortunately, she had received a letter from her mother that 
very evening, in which Mrs. Thorne announced her intention 
of leaving the Cove directly and spending a week in Boston 
on her way home. 

The next morning after breakfast Lilian hastened to her 
aunt’s room. 

“ I have been thinking over mother’s letter,” she said, 
“ and have decided that it will be better for me to meet her in 
Boston next Thursday and go on with her, instead of waiting 
here until Uncle Preble comes. She writes that she will be 
at the Tremont House Wednesday, and she is going to stay 
there several days. It is getting on towards fall now, and I 
shall have oceans to do after I get home to make ready for 
winter. I am glad I haven’t unpacked my trunk.” 

“ Well, you must do as you think best,” said Mrs. Preble. 
“ But won’t it be disagreeable for you to take the trip on the 
steamer alone ?” 

“ There is quite a large party going to Boston next Thurs- 
day,” said Laura. “ If Lilian really wants to go then she 
will have company enough.” 

“ That will be just the thing !” replied Lilian. “ I feel that 
I ought to join mother on the way.” 

The wonder was great that Lilian should voluntarily hasten 
the separation between hersplf and Mr. Cleaveland ; but the 
mystery was solved when he told them at dinner that he had 
decided to go away by Thursday’s boat. 

Lilian appeared as much surprised as anybody at the an- 
nouncement, and he certainly looked astonished when she 
said, — 

“ That happens very fortunately for me, as I have made all 
my arrangements to meet my mother in Boston by the same 
b at.” 

Mrs. Preble, influenced more than she would have acknowl- 
edged by Lilian’s confidence on the day of the picnic, was 
disposed to suspect collusion in the matter ; Sarah was certain 
that Lilian was guilty of a trick, though she had firm faith 

y 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL . 


370 

in Mr. Cleaveland’s innocence ; Laura saw in the circum- 
stance only one of those coincidences which so often occur to 
baffle or assist the wishes of short-sighted mortals. 

There was nothing left but to enjoy as much as possible the 
short period of companionship remaining, and accordingly all 
the favorite haunts were revisited by the whole party, and 
many thoughts were entertained, many feelings experienced, 
which found no expression in looks or words, as the farewell 
glimpse was taken of each familiar scene. 

Wednesday evening came, — the last evening they would all 
spend together. 

Since the announcement of the intended departure, Lilian 
had been constantly on the watch lest Laura and Mr. Cleave- 
land should have something particular to say to each other, 
and thus far she had seen nothing to disturb her. In all their 
walks the party had kept together and the conversation had 
been general. Now they were going to spend the evening in 
the garden, and it was not likely that anything would happen 
there. 

Lilian and Mr. Cleaveland were the first to reach the arbor, 
Laura having gone up-stairs for her mother’s shawl. When 
the three ladies appeared, he arose and went to meet them, and 
they came down the broad walk together. Mrs. Preble and 
Sarah seated themselves opposite Lilian, who watched with 
eager eyes to see where the other two would place themselves. 
They stood a moment by the wall, gazing out over the water, 
and at a few low words from Mr. Cleaveland Laura turned 
towards the west. They both looked in the same direction a 
moment, and then their eyes met. 

Lilian could endure it no longer. 

“ What do you two see out there ?” she asked. 

“ The new moon !” replied Laura. “ And over our right 
shoulders, too !” she added, with a bright smile. 

Lilian sprang up and joined them. 

“ Let me see !” she cried. 

But the moon was hidden by a cloud, and below lay a heavy 
bank of mist into which it would soon sink. 

“ I am afraid we shall not have very pleasant weather to- 
morrow,” said Mr. Cleaveland. “ I don’t like those clouds on 
the horizon.” 

Just then Lucindy came down the path. 


PARTING. 371 

“ Miss Thorne,” she said, “ Mrs. Bradley is in the parlor 
and wants to see you.” 

“ Oh, good gracious !” cried Lilian ; il I can’t go ! Tell her 
I am engaged.” 

“ No, no,” said Mrs. Preble, anxiously ; “ don’t send such a 
message. Of course you must see her.” 

Lilian went, with a heart full of bitterness and wrath 
against the unwelcome visitor. She would stay forever, — she 
knew she would. And her aunt and Sarah Davis would go 
up-stairs presently, and Laura would be left alone with Mr. 
Cleaveland. Tormenting old thing ! Why must she be 
poking around just at this time? 

Lilian had never looked handsomer in her life than when 
she entered the parlor and advanced to meet her guest. Her 
excitement and the effort to conceal it so affected the expres- 
sion of her face that her features looked as sharply defined as 
though carved out of marble ; her dark eyes glittered with 
suppressed rage, and her whole form seemed instinct with 
vigor, — as though she might run like Atalanta, or lead an 
army like Boadicea, or strike revenge like Medea. 

Mrs. Bradley did not stop to compare her with any of these 
shadowy heroines, but hastened to express her regret that her 
young friend was to leave so soon and that she had seen so 
little of her during her stay. 

“ I meant to call upon your party and invite you all to tea,” 
she said, “ but first I had a houseful of friends, and as soon 
as they were gone I was obliged to go to Deer Isle, to stay 
with a niece of mine who has been very sick.” 

Lilian responded to these civilities with the necessary 
politeness, but there was a coldness in her manner which puz- 
zled Mrs. Bradley, who had been at first drawn towards the 
stranger through sympathy with her apparently sincere, 
though in the maturer lady’s view excessive, enthusiasm for 
the Church. She tried now to lead the subject to religion, 
but Lilian had nothing to say. She sat pale and silent, an- 
swering only when obliged to, and keeping up a running com- 
mentary in her mind somewhat after this fashion : “ Oh, 
what’s the use of detaining me here to listen to such stuff? 
Are you ever going away, I should like to know ? Can't you 
see that I am dying with impatience to get rid of you ? 
What do I care for the decision of the General Convention 


372 


LAVRA , AN AMERICAN GIRL . 


about Ritualism ? I want to go back to the garden. That 
is all I can think about just now !” 

Whenever she fancied that Mrs. Bradley noticed her 
abstraction and was likely to be offended by it, she warmed 
up a little and volunteered some observation, and then, seeing 
that Mrs. Bradley felt more at ease and was likely to stay the 
longer for her increasing friendliness, she relapsed into silence, 
allowing long pauses between the subjects of debate, and occa- 
sionally thrusting out her foot, hoping that the sudden motion 
after the complete stillness might, by means of the law of un- 
conscious imitation, cause the visitor to start from her com- 
fortable position on the sofa and begin to think about going. 
But Lilian had time to try a good many manoeuvres of this 
kind before Mrs. Bradley rose to leave, and even after the lady 
was clear of the sofa she lingered in front of every chair and 
held Lilian’s hand in the hall and dawdled on the door-step 
until the half-distracted girl was ready to scream with nervous 
irritation. 

At last her back was turned, and Lilian darted in the oppo- 
site direction with loathing in her heart for the well-meaning 
Castine lady, and a cold chill all over her in view of some 
possible crisis of feeling between the two young people in the 
garden. As she hurried down the path she could see Laura 
and Mr. Cleaveland sitting on the wall, but the load of anxiety 
was lifted from her mind as she heard Mr. Deering’s voice in 
the arbor and knew that the others were still there. 

As she drew near, Laura was saying, — 

“ Very pretty, very flirty, very proud of their small hands 
and feet.” 

“ Whom are you describing now ?” called out Lilian, in 
high good humor at the innocent nature of the conversation. 

“ Mr. Cleaveland was asking what impression American girls 
made upon me after being away from my own country so long, 
and I was beginning to tell him what I thought of one class 
of them, but it would be unjust not to add how much I was 
struck by the manners and attainments of the sensible ones. 
I never heard so much intelligent talk about music and paint- 
ing in all the time I was abroad as I heard last winter in 
Boston society; and no doubt it is the same in all large 
cities.” 

The party stayed later than usual in the garden, being loath 


PARTING . 


373 


to leave the fragrant, star-lit spot, but at last they all went 
into the house together, and it was Mrs. Preble, and not 
Laura, whom Mr. Cleaveland escorted up the path, as Lilian 
thankfully observed. 

The next forenoon passed swiftly in final preparations for 
the journey. Mrs. Turner excelled herself in the dinner, and 
put up a tempting lunch for each of the travellers besides. 
She was sorry to lose Mr. Cleaveland, and, though she had 
never forgiven Lilian for her supposed share in Mary’s per- 
version, and was by no means pleased in many other respects 
with what she had seen of the young lady’s walk and conver- 
sation, still she owed it to the prosperity of the “ Acadian” to 
speed the parting guest in such wise as should be most likely 
to cause a return in person or by proxy. 

“ There is one good thing about it all,” said Mrs. Preble to 
Sarah, as they were putting on their things to go down to the 
boat : “ we shall not have the bother of Lilian’s trunks when 
we go home. I was a true prophet when I said I would 
never travel with that great ark again !” 

“ There is another good thing,” replied Sarah, coming to 
the door of her chamber. “ The wind is rising every minute. 
It will be awfully rough outside, and Miss Lilian Thorne, in- 
stead of sitting on deck to-night with Mr. Cleaveland, look- 
ing at the new moon, will be sea-sick in her state-room, and 
scared enough to repent of all the sins she has committed in 
Castine.” 

There was but little time for farewells on the wharf. The 
boat was late, and the passengers were hurried on board. Mr. 
Cleaveland had already exchanged addresses with Mrs. Preble, 
and asked leave to write from Newport, whither he was bound ; 
and, after Lilian’s elaborate and purposely-prolonged good- 
byes were ended, he had to shake hands with the three ladies 
as quickly as possible and hurry up the gangway after her. 
She retreated behind the engine-house to get out of the wind, 
but Mr. Cleaveland waited by the railing and held his hat in 
his hand, his hair tossing about as it had done when he stood 
on the top of Trask’s Rock. 

The boat started He looked down at Laura, and she 
looked up at him. 

Suddenly he smiled, and, leaning forward so that she could 
hear, he said, “ Happy to meet.’ 

32 


374 


LAURA , AN AMERICAN GIRL. 


“ Sorry to part,” she answered, promptly, with responsive 
smile. 

“ Happy to meet again,” he added. 

They were too far apart for him to perceive the assurance 
of welcome which beamed from her eyes, but he saw her 
white handkerchief flutter in the breeze, and accepted the 
signal as a good omen for the successful issue of his hopes. 


THE END, 


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THE EICHHOFS. 

From the German of Moritz von Reichenbach. 
i2mo. Extra cloth. $1.50. 

“ A thoroughly pleasing romance, I interest to the end.’* — New York 
which will be read with well-sustained | Evening Post . 


A NEW RACE. 


From the German of Golo Raimund. 


i2mo. Extra 
“ There is no translator so trusted 
by the public, or, indeed, who occu- 
pies any such position as that which 
Mrs. Wister’s good work has secured 
for her. The book is a story rather 
out of the common course of German 


cloth. $1.25. 

romances, and is drawn with great 
delicacy and finish.” — Publishers * 
Weekly, New York. 

“ A very interesting story.” — North 
American. 


castee hohenwaed. 


From the German of Adolph Streckfuss. 


i2mo. Extra 

** She is one of the best German 
translators in America. ‘ Castle Ho- 
henwald* belongs to the best class of 
German romances.** — Cincinnati 
Commercial. 


cloth. $1.50. 

“A brilliant and attractive story, 
full of incident and adventure, and 
sure to entertain the reader with its 
clever delineations of fashionable so- 
ciety.” — Boston Traveller. 


MARGARETHE f 

Or, Life Problems. 

From the German of E. Juncker. 


i2mo. Extra 
'* * Margarethe* is eminently a ro- 
mance of pure and elevating senti- 
ments, and a work of high literary 
merit, as well as of absorbing and sym- 
pathetic interest. The story is one of 
great power.” — Boston Home Journal. 

“ A fascinating novel, extremely 
well written, handling characters, 
scenes, and dramatic incidents, as 
well as the weightiest * life problems/ 


cloth. $1.50. 

in a really masterly way. Few will 
feel like putting down the book when 
they have once began to read it.*’ — 
Baltimore Bulletin. 

“ This is the best novel that has 
appeared on our table for many a day. 
It is a book full of power, of beauty, 
and of thrilling interest.” — Cincinnati 
Commercial. 


PUBLICATIONS OF J. B. LIPPINCOTT 6- CO. 


MES. WISTER’S POPULAR TRANSLATIONS 

FROM THE GERMAN. 


TOO RICH. 

From the German of Adolph Streckfuss; 
i2mo. Extra cloth. $1.50. 


“ Novel readers will delight in the 
story as one of piquant flavor, and 
strong in development." — Boston 
Evening Traveller . 

“Mrs. Wister’s refined and pure 


taste never leads her amiss in making 
her selections, and the novel before us 
is quite as interesting as any of its 
predecessors of the same kind." — 
Philadelphia Evening Telegraph. 


HUI.DA. 

From the German of Fanny Lewald. 
i2mo. Extra cloth. $1.50. 


“ There is not a heavy page in the 
entire volume, nor is the interest al- 
lowed to flag from introduction to 
* finis/ " — Philadelphia New Age. 

“ It is rare in these days of mediocre 
novels to find a work so thoroughly 


charming as this." — Norristown 
Herald . 

“ One of the most healthful, fresh, 
delightful, and artistically-constructed 
novels that has appeared this season.” 
— Philadelphia Evening Bulletin. 


A FAMILY FEID. 

From the German of Ludwig Hardner. 
i2mo. Extra cloth. $1.25. 


“ Few plots are more elaborately 
conceived or more graphically pre- 
sented. From the first to the end the 
story grasps and holds the attention, 
and it is to be pronounced one of the 


best and most powerful novels recently 
issued. The tone of it is above any 
reproach, and its naturalness is to 
be altogether commended." — Boston 
Evening Traveller. 


THE GREEN GATE. 

From the German of Ernst Wiehert. 


i2mo. Extra cloth. $1.50. 


“ It is a hearty, pleasant story, with 
plenty of incident, and ends charm- 
ingly." — Boston Globe. 

“ A charming book in the best style 
of German romance, redolent of that 
nameless home sentiment which gives 


a healthful tone to the story." — New 
Orleans Times. 

“ This is a story of continental 
Europe and modern times, quite rich 
in information and novel in plot." — 
Chicago yournal. 


WHY DID HE NOT DIE ? 

Or, The Child from the Ebraergang. 

From the German of Ad. von Volckhausen. 


i2mo. Extra cloth. $1.50. 


“ Few recently published novels 
have received more general perusal 
and approval than ‘ Only a Girl and 
* Why Did He Not Die?’ possesses in 
at least an equal degree all the ele- 


ments of popularity. From the be- 
ginning to the end the interest never 
flags, and the characters and scenes 
are drawn with great warmth and 
power." — New York Herald. 


PUBLICATIONS OF J. B. LIPPINCOTT & CO. 


THE WORKS OF E. MARLITT. 


TRANSLATED BY MRS. A. L. WISTER. 
12mo. Extra Cloth.. Each $>1.50. 
IN THE SCHILLINGS COURT. 


** This book is the best of its author’s I ness, and interest.” — Boston Saturday 
works, in respect to strength, vivid- | Evening Gazette. 

AT THE COUNCILLOR’S; 

Or, .A. 3T-A. S HISTO TSTST. 

“ Pure in tone, elegant in style, and terizes human romance in Germany/* 
overflowing with the tender and open- — Worcester Spy. 
ly expressed sentiment which charac- 

TIIE SECOND WIFE. 

” A German story of intense interest I romance of that country.” — Washy 
by one of the best-known writers of | ington Chronicle. 

THE OLD MAM’SELLE’S SECRET. 


“ It is one of the most intense, con- 
centrated, compact novels of the day. 

. . . And the work has the minute 
fidelity of the author of the * Initials,’ 

GOLD 

“ ‘ Gold Elsie' is one of the loveliest 
heroines ever introduced to the pub- 
lic.” — Boston Advertiser. 


the dramatic unity of Reade, and the 
graphic power of George Eliot.” — • 
Columbus , Ohio, journal. 

ELSIE. 

“ A charming book. It absorbs your 
attention from the title-page to the 
end.” — The Chicago Home Circle. 


THE LITTLE MOORLAND PRINCESS. 


** A charming story.” — New York 
Observer. 

“ The plot is admirably contrived.” 
— Philadelphia Evening Bulletin. 


“ Delightful for the exquisite manner 
in which its characters are drawn.”— 
Boston Evening Traveller. 


COUNTESS GISELA. 


" One of the very best of its class, 
and is a genuine representation of 
court, burgher, and rural life in Ger- 
many. The translation is spirited and 
faithful.” — Philadelphia Press. 


“ There is more dramatic power in 
this than in any of the stories by the 
same author that we have read.*’—* 
N. O. Times. 


THE BAILIFF’S MAID. 

12mo. Extra Cloth.. $1-25. 


" One of the freshest and purest of 
these charming romances of rural life 
in Germany. ... It is a charming, 
breezy romance. . . . One of the best 
of the Marlitt novels.” — Philadelphia 
Evening Bulletin. 


“ A delightful work, in its author’* 
best vein, and is attractive in plot 
and remarkably strong in characteri- 
zation.” — Boston Saturday Evening 
Gazette. 


Translated by Mrs. Elgard. 


OYER YONDER. 

Fifth Edition. 8vo, With Full-page Illustration, Paper. 30 Cents. 


MAGDALENA. 

Together with “ THE LONELY ONES,” by Paul Heyse. 

Fifth Edition. 8vo. With Two Full-page Illustrations, Paper. 35 Cents. 


PUBLICATIONS OF J. B. LirPINCOTT <&■ CO. 


t i 


OU I DA’S” POPULAR NOVELS. 

12 mo. 

Extra cloth, $1.25 per volume; Paper covers, 50 and 60 cents each. 


GRANVILLE DE VIGNE ; 

Or, Held in Bondage. A Tale of the Day. 

** This in vrie of the most powerful I present century, so prolific in light 
4nd spicy works of fiction which the | literature, has produced." 

STRATHMORE ; 

Or, Wrought by His Own Hand. 

“ It is a romance of the intense 
school, but it is written with more 
power; fluency, and brilliancy than the 


works of Miss Braddon and Mrs. Wood, 
while itsscenesandcharactersare taken 
from high life." — Boston Transcript. 


CHANDOS. 

“ Those who have read * Granville de 
Vigne’ and ‘Strathmore’ will be sure to 
read Chandos. It is characterized by 
the same gorgeous coloring of style 


and somewhat exaggerated portraiture 
of scenes and characters, but it is a 
story of surprising power and interest.” 
— Pittsburgh Evening Chronicle. 


PUCK. 

His Vicissitudes, Adventures, Observations, Conclusions, Friend- 
ships, and Philosophies. 

“ Its quaintness will provoke laugh- I character is kept up unabated ." — AU 
ter, while the interest in the central | bany Journal. 

ID ALIA. 


It is a story of love and hatred, 
of affection and jealousy, of intrigue 
and devotion. . . We think this novel 
Will attain a wide popularity, especially 


among those whose refined taste en- 
ables them to appreciate and enjoy 
what is truly beautiful in literature." 
— Albany Evening Journal. 


TRICOTRIN. 

With Portrait of the Author from an Engraving on Steel. 

“ The book abounds in beautiful sen- 
timent, expressed in a concentrated, 
compact style which cannot fail to be 


attractive, and will be read with pleas- 
ure in every household." — San Fran» 
cisco Times. 


FRIENDSHIP. 

" Like all her books, it is intense and | terly in characterization ."— Boston 
passionate ; absorbing in plot and mas- 


in 

Journal. 


IN A WINTER CITY. 


" It is brilliant and characteristic." 
*— Philadelphia Press. 

** This is one of the most fascinating 


of the recent works of this undeni- 
ably powerful novelist." — New Haven 
Journal and Courier. 


UNDER TWO FLAGS. 

A Story of the Household and the Desert. 


“This is probably thq.most popular 
work of ‘ Ouida.' It is enough of itself 
to establish her fame as one of the 


most eloquent and graphic writers o! 
fiction now living.” — Chicago Journal 
of Commerce. 


PUBLICATIONS OF J. B. LIPPINCOTT <5r» CO. 


“OU IDA’S” POPULAR NOVELS. 

12mo. 

Extra cloth, $1,25 per volume ; Paper covers, 50 and 60 cents each, 


BEATRICE BOVILLE, 

And Other Stories. 


*' The many works already in print 
fcy this Versatile authoress have estab- 
lished her reputation as a novelist, and 
these short stories contribute largely 


to the stock of pleasing narratives and 
adventures alive to the memories of all 
who are given to romance and fiction.” 
— New Haven Journal . 


PASCAREL. 

“ A charming novel, far in advance “It is masterly as a romance." — 
of ‘ OuidaV earlier novels/' — London London Spectator . 

Athenceum. 


ARIADNE. 


“ As full of charm as any of its pre- 
decessors. It is equal in style and 
interest to * Under Two Flags,’ which 


is about the highest praise that can be 
given to a novel." — St. Louis Globe- 
Democrat. 


SIGNA. 


“‘Signa’ is a very exciting and 
absorbing novel." — Boston Saturday 
Evening Gazette. 

“ The story is intensely dramatic, 
and most vividly appeals to the sym- 


pathy of a lover of the warmer order 
of literature. It is sufficient to say that 
it’s ‘ Ouida's,' for nb one ever wrote 
as she wrote." — Boston Traveller. 


BEBEE ; 

Or, Two Little Wooden Shoes. 


“ One of the most tenderly beautiful 
stories we ever read." — Boston Liter- 
ary World. 

“Simplicity and pure nature, un- 


marred by sensationalism ©f any kind, 
make the story as excellent as anything 
‘ Ouida' has written." — Philadelphia 
North American . 


FOLLE-FARINE. 

“ This work fully sustains the writer’s I bered among the best of her works." 
previous reputation, and maybenum- | — Troy Times. 


RANDOLPH GORDON, 

And Other Stories. 

“ Our word for it, if. is full of sparkle, dull page from ' Ouida. ’ **^-New Or- 
dramatic situation, and sharp charac- leans Picayune . 
terization. We have never yet seen a 


CECIL CASTLEMAINE’S GAGE, 

And Other Stories. 


“ One of the most popular of her 
books . ’ ’ — Louisville Commercial. 

** Has all the peculiar character- 


istics which delight so large an army 
of readers of this novelist." — New 
York Evening Mail. 


A LEAF IN THE STORM, 

And Other Novelettes. With Two Illustrations. 8vo. Papercover. 50 cents, 

“Those who look upon light litera- I pleasure and satisfaction-”— Baltimore 
ture as an art will read these tales with | Gazette . 


PUBLICATIONS OF J. B. LIPPINCOTT & CO. 


“ O U I DA’S” LATER WORKS. 


I N MAREMMA. 

A Story of Italian Life. 

12mo. Extra cloth, $1.23; Paper cover, 60 cents. 


“ We doubt much whether ‘Ouida’s' 
prolific pen has ever given to the world 
a better proof of its unrivalled facility 
in the delineation of Italian life and 
Italian character than in this volume. 
‘ In Maremma’ is a thrilling, heart- 
moving story. * Ouida' is a brilliant 
novelist. She understands thoroughly 
how to play upon the chords of the 


human heart. She moves to tears, 
rouses the fire of indignation, turns to 
ridicule at will. And in this volume 
she is at her best.” — Chicago Tribune. 

“ One of the best of * Ouida V nov- 
els.” — Boston Globe. 

“ The most powerful and fascinating 
work of fiction of the present day.” — 
Washington National Republican. 


A VIEEAGE COMMUNE. 

A Story . 

12mo. Extra cloth, $1.23; Paper cover, 60 cents. 


“ It is a book which claims and will 
repay a careful reading.” — Philadel- 
phia North A nierican. 

“ It is deeply interesting with ex- 
cellent character portrayal, the whole 
being written in the witty, sparkling 
style for which ‘ Ouida' is famous.” — 
Boston Post. 


“ Consists of a passionate protest 
against the application to regenerated 
Italy of the Code Napoleon. The 
author draws a strong picture of the 
kind of oppression to which the peas- 
ants are now subjected.” — New York 
Times. 


MOTHS. 


A Novel. 

12mo. Extra cloth, $1.23; Paper cover, 60 cents. 


“The present work is marked by 
all the bold originality in conception 
and quaint brilliancy of diction that 
characterizes all of ‘ Ouida’s' books.” 
Sunday Dispatch. 

“ This is the latest contribution of 
the prolific and brilliant * Ouida’ to 


the literature of romantic fiction. 
Carries the reader’s interest with it 
irresistibly to the end.” — Harrisburg 
Patriot. 

“ Deserves to take rank by the side 
of the best of her previous novels.” — 
Chicago Evening Journal. 


BIMBI. 

Stories for Children • 
12mo. Extra cloth, $1.23. 


“ We must confess we hardly antici- 
pated being pleased with ‘ Bimbi.' 
But we are. The stories are graceful 
and entertaining in an unusually high 
degree.” — The Congregationalist . 


“ The most fascinating little tales 
imaginable, pure in thought and pur- 
pose, charming in style, with surpris- 
ing touches of wit and humor and 
pathos.” — Boston Traveller. 


[IN PRESS.] 

WISDOM, POETRY AND PATHOS. 

Selected from “Ouida’s” Works. By Rev . F. Sydney Morris. 
12mo. Extra cloth. 


PUBLICATIONS OF J. B. LIPPINCOTT <5r» CO. 


THE “DUCHESS” SERIES OF NOVELS. 


PH\%I 4 S. 


i2mo. Extra cloth. $1.25. Paper cover. 40 cents. 


“ It is fascinating to a high degree. 

. . We lay aside the book with a 
sigh of regret that the pleasure is over, 
after mingling our laughter and tears 
with the varying fortunes of the 


charming heroine." — New York Eve . 
Mail. 

“ Certainly * Phyllis’ is one of the 
most fascinating little novels that has 
appeared this year." — N. O. Times. 


MOUY BAWN. 


i2mo. Extra cloth. $1.25. Paper cover. 40 cents. 


“ Is really an attractive novel. Full 
of wit, spirit, and gayety, the book 
contains, nevertheless, touches of the 
most exquisite pathos. There is plenty 
of fun and humor, which never degen- 


erate into vulgarity. All women will 
envy, and all men fall in love with, 
her. Higher praise we surely cannot 
give." — London Athenceum. 


AIRY FAIRY UUAN. 

i2mo. Extra cloth. $1.25. Paper cover. 40 cents. 


“The airiest and most sparkling 
contribution of the month is a brilliant 
romance by the author of * Phyllis.* 
It is as full of variety and refreshment 
as a bright and changeful June morn- 


ing. Its narrative is animated, its 
dialogue crisp and spirited, its tone 
pure and wholesome, and its characters 
are gracefully contrasted.” — Harper’s 
Magazine . 


BEAUTY’S DAUGHTERS. 


i2mo. Extra cloth. $1.25. Paper cover. 40 cents. 


“ The story is the airiest, lightest, 
brightest imaginable. There is no 
dead weight about it. It is flooded 
with whole oceans of sentiment, but 
they are salty, sparkling, breezy 


oceans, and not stagnant pools. 
‘ Beauty's Daughters* are a winsome 
and wayward bevy.** — Louisville 
Courier - Journal. 


MRS. GEOFFREY. 
i2mo. Extra cloth. $1.25. Paper cover. 40 cents. 

“ It is written in such a charming I you can’t help liking, and it is sure to 
style, witty, sparkling, airy, constant- find lots of readers and add to the 
ly changing, never the same, and yet already well-established fame of its 
always in the same line. It is a book | author." — Boston Post. 

FAITH AND UNFAITH. 


X2mo. Extra cloth. $1.25. Paper cover. 40 cents. 


“ This last work is fully equal to 
any which have preceded it. It is 
really an attractive romance, full of 
bright wit, fine descriptions, and well- 
sketched characters . * ' — Burlington 
Hawkey e. 

“ Whoever has enjoyed * Mrs. Geof- 


frey* or ‘ Phyllis' will not require 
urging to read this last novel. In 
truth, this fresh story is more enter- 
taining and even more absorbing than 
‘ Mrs. Geoffrey.' From cover to cover 
this story is delightful." — New York 
Home Journal. 


PUBLICATIONS OF J. B. LIPPINCOTT & CO. 


MRS. FORRESTER’S NOVELS. 


i2mo. 


RHONA. 

Extra cloth. $1.25. Paper cover. 50 cents. 


"The author is one of the most 
popular writers of the period, and 
this is esteemed among her best/' — 
Baltimore Gazette. 

"Far above the average of novels. 


It is full of strong, dramatic power 
and insight, both deep and critical, 
into the wayward human heart." — 
Cincinnati Commercial. 


i2mo. 


DOLORES. 

Extra cloth. $1.25. Paper cover. 50 cents. 


“ This is a delightful book. One of 
the best romances of the day." — 
Philadelphia Chronicle. 


“ A capitally told story ; a good, 
old-fashioned love-story of the very 
best school." — Peterson's Magazine. 


i2mo. 


DIANA CAREW; 

Or, For a Woman’s Sake. 

Extra cloth. $1.25. Paper cover. 


50 cents. 


" A story of great beauty and com- 
plete interest to its close ." — Boston 
Traveller. 

" A story of remarkable power and 
interest. The characters are drawn 
with such distinctness, and they are 


made to act always so consistently, 
that the reader comes to feel towards 
them as he would towards actual 
personages ." — Philadelphia Evening 
Bulletin. 


i2mo. 


MIGNON. 

Extra cloth. $1.25. Paper cover. 50 cents. 


“ Will be counted her best, as it is 
full of a keen interest both in its plot 
and character, and is written in a re- 
fined and exceedingly pleasing style." 
— Publishers' Weekly. 


“ It is really one of the best novels 
of the day, and is as pure and 
fresh as it is entertaining ." — Boston 
Transcript. 


i2mo. Extra cloth. 


VIVA, 

$1.25. Paper cover. 


50 cents. 


" A work of unusual power and in- 
terest. The plot is deeply attractive, 
the characters are striking, and the 


management of the story throughout 
is very skilful ." — Boston Saturday 
Evening Gazette. 


ROY AND VIOLA. 

i2mo. Extra cloth. $1.25. Paper cover. 50 cents. 

not its least recommendation." — Neve 
York Mail. 

" It is a first-rate story, well worth 
reading, and will be found decidedly 
interesting ." — Boston Post. 


"This new story is one of the best 
and brightest of the novels of this 
popular author ." — Worcester Spy. 

" The narrative is of absorbing in- 
terest, the plot is skilfully managed, 
and its pure and wholesome tone is 

MY LORD AINU MY LADY. 

lamo. Extra cloth. $1.25. Paper cover. 50 cents. 

"Mrs. Forrester has already won i Lady' is a story of high life. Itisdra- 
lame by her published works. One of made in conception and well worked 
the most successful of our female novel- out. The characters are well outlined, 
ists, she is also one of tjie purest and and some of the situations are strik- 
most wholesome. ‘ My Lord and My ingly effective ." — New York Herald. 


PUBLICATIONS OF J. B. LIPPINCOTT &• CO. 


The “ Wide , Wide World 99 Series . 

The Works of the Misses Warner. 

THE WIDE, WIDE WORLD. ismo. Two Steel Plates. 694 
pages. Fine cloth. #1.75. 

QUEECHY. i2mo. Two Illustrations. 806 pages. Fine cloth. #1.75. 

THE HILLS OF THE SHATEMUC. i2mo. 516 pages. 
Fine cloth. #1.75. 

MY BROTHER’S KEEPER. i2mo. 385 pages. Fine cloth. 
$1.50. 

DOLLARS AND CENTS. i2mo. 515 pages. Fine cloth. $€.75. 

DAISY. i2mo. 815 pages. Fine cloth. $1.75. 

SAY AND SEAL. i2mo. 1013 pages. Fine cloth. $1.75. 

SGS" Complete sets 0/ the above volumes, bound in uniform style, can be 
obtained, put up in neat boxes . 

The sale of thousands of the above volumes attests their popularity. They 
are stories of unusual interest, remarkably elevated and natural in tone and 
sentiment, full of refined and healthy thought, and exhibiting an intimate and 
accurate knowledge of human nature. 

— 

Three Towerful Romances, 

By Wilhelmine Yon Hillem. 

ONLY A GIRL. From the German. By Mrs. A. L. Wister. 
i2mo. Fine cloth. $1.50. 

This is a charming work, charmingly written, and no one who reads it 
can lay it down without feeling impressed with the superior talent of its 
gifted author. 

BY HIS OWN M l GHT. From the German. By M. S. i2mo. 
Fine cloth. $1.2 c. 

** A story of intense interest, well wrought." — Boston Commonwealth . 

A TWOFOLD LIFE. From the German. By M. S. i 2 mo. 
Fine cloth. $1.25. 

" It is admirably written, the plot is interesting and well developed, the styla 
vigorous and healthy." — Boston Saturday Evening Gazette . 



Two Charming Novels , 

By the Author of “ The Initials,” 

QUITS. By the Baroness Tautphceus. i2mo. Fine cloth. $1.50. 

AT ODDS. By the Baroness Tautphceus. i2mo. Fine cloth, gi.50. 


PUBLICATIONS OF J. B. LIPPINCOTT CO. 


THE 

“ODD TRUMP” SERIES 

OF NOVELS. 

8vo. Fine cloth. $1.25. Paper cover. 75 cts. 


THE ODD TRUMP. 


54 Deserving the highest praise. . . . 
Its incidents are all pure ; it is the 
apotheosis of chivalric bravery and 
courtesy; and is written in elegant 
English, with a purity of style that 


is in itself refreshing.” — Louisville 
Courier- Journal. 

“ Bright and lively from preface to 
postscript.” — Philadelphia North 
A meric an. 


HARWOOD. 


44 A good novel in the best sense of 
the word; lively, dramatic, told right 
along from beginning to end without 


any flagging of the movement, and 
without a single unnecessary episode.” 
— Indianapolis Journal . 


THE LACY DIAMONDS. 


44 Will more than ever stamp its | novelists of America, or it maybe of 
author as one of the foremost popular | the world.” — New York Commercial . 


FLESH AND SPIRIT. 


44 We do not at all wonder that these 
novels are popular. They deserve 
popularity for being precisely what 


they are meant to be and what they 
profess to be.” — New York Evening 
Post. 


THE CLIFTON PICTURE. 


44 A novel that the most exciting 
taste will revel in. It is brimful of 
situations, bright and entertaining.” 
«— Boston Post. 

44 It is a most readable story. The 


style is animated, the tone is pure 
and healthy, and the whole story is 
thoroughly entertaining.” — Louisville 
Courier - Journal . 


THE GHOST OF REDBROOK. 


44 It is a thoroughly readable novel, 
pure and vigorous in tone, with plenty 
of love, romance, and humor, and not 
much ghost. The plot is worked out 


most skilfully, and will puzzle even the 
inveterate novel readers.” — Louisville 
Courier- Journal. 


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